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I  PrincetcD,  IT.  J.  I 

BV  4§32  .P549  1837  TTT 
Philip,  Robert. 

Devotional  guides 


1 

DEVOTIONAL 
GUIDES. 

BY    REV.    ROBERT    PHILIP, 

OF     MABERLY     CHAPEL. 


AN   INTRODUCTORY   ESSAY 


BY   REV.   ALBERT   BARNES. 


IN    TWO    VOLUMES 


VOL. 


NEW    YORK: 
D.   APPLETON  &   CO.,    200   BROADWAY 


1837. 


Entered  acconiing  to  act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  1836,  by 

I).    APPLETON    &    CO., 

In  the  Clerk's  Office  of  the  District  Court  of  the  Eastern  District  of  New  Jfork. 


STEREOTYPKD    BY    REDFIELD    ft    LINDSAY, 
No.  13  Chambers  street,  New  York. 


INTRODUCTION 


Few  religious  writings  of  the  present  age  have  been 
more  acceptable  to  the  Christian  public,  or  more  useful, 
than  those  of  the  Rev.  Robert  Philip.  His  small 
treatises  on  "  Manly  Piety,"  &c.,  which  have  been  re- 
cently collected  and  published  under  the  head  of  "  The 
Young  Man's  Closet  Library,"  have  already  been  exten- 
sively circulated  in  England,  and  in  this  country.  The 
treatises  which  compose  this  volume  have  been  hitherto 
separately  issued  under  the  name  of  "  Guides,"  and 
have  been  not  less  successful  than  the  former.  Prob- 
ably they  are  adapted  to  be  more  generally  useful,  from 
the  fact  that  they  will  be  likely  to  find  more  readers. 
They  are  exclusively  addressed  to  Christians  ;  and  they 
so  obviously  meet  the  wants  of  Christians  under  various 
circumstances  of  life,  that,  even  were  the  execution  less 
able,  they  could  scarcely  fail  of  being  highly  appreciated 
by  large  numbers  of  the  Christian  community. 

The  happy  thought  seems  to  have  occurred  to  the 
mind  of  the  Author  to  issue  a  succession  of  small  books, 
similar  in  their  character  and  tendency,  that  should  be 
adapted  to  comfort  the  hearts,  relieve  the  perplexities, 
and  promote  the  spiritual  advancement  of  Christians. 


NTR  ODUCTION. 


A  single  glance  at  the  different  subjects  discussed  in 
these''  Guides,"  will  show  that  Christians  of  almost  every 
class  have  been  contemplated  ;  and  that  the  Author  has 
adapted  his  works  to  cases  that  w^ere  most  likely  to 
occur,  and  has  selected  topics  that  v^^ould  be  most  likely 
to  be  useful.  The  subjects  of  "  Christian  Experience," 
of  "  Communion  with  God ;"  of  "  Redemption ;"  the 
"  Guides  to  the  Thoughtful,"  the  "  Doubting,"  the  "  Con- 
scientious,"  comprise  a  large  portion  of  the  points  that 
are  interesting  to  the  mass  of  Christians  ;  and  evidently 
embrace  the  vital  portions  of  the  subjects  on  which  a 
man  is  interested  who  desires  to  "  walk  with  God." 

These  subjects  are  treated  in  a  way  that  will  be  sat- 
isfactory to  all  serious  minds.  The  character  of  the 
Author's  style  is  evidently  fitted  to  the  work  which  he 
has  undertaken.  It  is  simple,  pure,  terse,  intelligible, 
occasionally  highly  beautiful  and  forcible.  It  is  with- 
out affectation,  laboured  effort,  or  heaviness.  It  is 
sufficiently  sprightly  for  the  subject ;  yet  never  light, 
or  trifling.  It  is  evidently  the  style  of  a  man  who 
has  much  communion  with  the  Sacred  Scriptures,  and 
with  his  own  heart.  The  strain  of  remark  is  evidently 
in  accordance  with  the  Bible,  and  with  the  dictates  of 
sound  and  sensible  thinking.  There  is  little  direct 
reference  to  doctrinal  subjects,  yet,  every  attentive 
reader  will  be  satisfied  that  his  views  are  such  as  ac- 
cord with  the  word  of  God.  He  will  be  constantly 
impressed  with  the  aim  of  the  Author  to  lead  on  his 
readers  to  a  deep  sense  of  their  responsibility,  and  to 
avoid  the  evils  of  Antinomianism.  As  specimens  of 
great  beauty  and  tenderness  of  composition,  the  chapter 
on  the  "  Saviour's  Devotional  Habits,"  or  the  treatise  on 
"  Communion  with  God,"  may  be  referred  to  ;  and  also 
many  parts  of  the  treatise  on  "  Redemption,"  or  "  The 
New  Song  in  Heaven." 


INTRODU  CTION. 


A  large  portion  of  these  "  Guides,"  is  occupied  in 
various  forms  with  Christian  experience.  In  regard 
to  this  important  subject,  the  following  remarks  may- 
be made,  as  perhaps  not  an  unsuitable  introduction  to 
these  treatises  : — 

I.  The  great  principles  of  Christian  experience  are 
substantially  the  same  at  all  times,  and  in  all  countries 
where  the  gospel  effects  the  hearts  of  men.  Paul,  and 
Peter,  and  the  martyrs,  experienced  substantially  the 
same  changes  when  they  became  Christians  which 
occur  now.  There  were  substantially  the  same  views 
of  sin,  of  the  corruption  of  the  human  heart,  of  the 
mercy  of  God,  of  the  work  of  Jesus  Christ,  and  of  the 
operation  of  the  Holy  Spirit.  There  was  substantially 
also,  the  same  joy  on  the  views  of  the  mercy  of  God, 
and  on  the  forgiveness  of  sins,  and  the  same  desire  to 
glorify  the  name  of  God.  It  is  this,  in  part,  which  ren- 
ders the  Scriptures  so  valuable  to  Christians.  They 
find  there  the  same  great  features  of  Christian  experience 
which  they  are  conscious  of  in  their  own  bosoms,  and 
they  infer,  therefore,  that  they  are  united  by  faith  to 
the  same  Saviour  by  whose  merits  the  saints  of  ancient 
times  were  saved. 

The  same  is  true  of  Christians  of  all  ages,  and  all 
countries.  Though  living  in  different  times,  and  speak- 
ing different  languages,  and  subjected  to  different  trials, 
yet  the  great  features  of  their  piety  are  essentially  the 
same.  The  humblest  convert  at  a  missionary  station 
has  communion  of  feeling  with  the  most  refined  and 
intelligent  Christian  of  civilized  lands,  and  would  speak 
a  language  on  the  subject  of  vital  piety  which  would 
meet  with  a  response  in  every  Christian  bosom.  It 
follows  from  this,  that  works  on  the  characteristic  traits 
of  a  Christian,  and  on  the  general  subject  of  Christian 
experience,  becomes  the  property  of  the  world,  and  of 

1* 


6  INTRODUCTION. 

all  times.     They  become  the  permanent  inheritance  of 
the  church ;  and  if  they  are  true  to  nature  they  may  be 
as  undying  as  the  existence  of  the  church  itself.     The 
Bible,  apart  from  the  direct  evidence  of  its  divine  origin, 
has  thus  a  hold  on  the  human  mind  which  will  secure 
its  perpetuity  on   earth  just  as  long  as  the  church  is 
continued.     It  describes  Christian  feeling,  as  well  as 
the  operations  of  human  depravity,  in  such  a  manner 
that  every  successive  Christian  feels  and  knows  that  it 
is  true  to  nature.     He  cannot  be  mistaken  in  regard  to 
it.     He  may  be  assailed,  and  ridiculed ;  he  may  be 
unable  to  answer  the  cavils  of  its  foes ;  he  may  be  put 
to  silence  by  its  enemies,  but  he  can  no  more  doubt 
that  the  sacred  writers  understood  the  workings  of  the 
human  mind  when  under  the  influence  of  religion  than 
he  can  his  own  existence  ;  and  the  consequence  is,  that 
from  age  to  age  there  are  thousands  of  Christians  who 
are  not  only  willing  to  venture  their  everlasting  all  on 
the  truth  of  the  Bible,  but  who  would  be  willing  to  put 
their  faith  to  a  more  direct  test  by  going  to  the  stake  or 
the  flames.     In  like   manner  there  are  treatises  in   all 
languages,  and  Christian  countries,  which  become  the 
property  of  the  church  at  large,  and  which  are  probably 
destined  to  travel  down  amidst  all  revolutions   to  the 
Judgment-day.     The  work   of  Thomas  a  Kempis  on 
"  the  Imitation  of  Christ,"  is  probably  such  a   work. 
It  had  no  more  applicability  to  his  times,  in  its  main 
structure,  than  to  these  times,  and  to  future  ages.     The 
"  Saint's  Everlasting  Rest,"  is  probably  another  such 
work  ;  and  tlin  "  Pilgrim's  Progress,"  is  destined  to  a  sim- 
ilar immortality.     And  to  mention  no  other,  it  is  prob- 
able that "  Edwards  on  the  Affections,"  is  destined  in  like 
manner  to  become  the  property  of  the  church  at  large, 
and  to  guide  tens  of  thousands  of  future    inquirers  into 
the  knowledge  of  their  real  standing  in  the  sight  of  God. 


INTRODUCTION. 


II.  But  although  this  is  true  in  regard  to  the  prin- 
ciples of  Christian  piety,  and  of  the  works  which  assert 
and  defend  those  principles,  it  is  also  true  that  the 
Christians  of  every  age  demand  books  adapted  to  their 
peculiar  character,  temptation,  trials  and  wants.  While 
the  great  principles  of  piety  remain  every  where  the 
same,  and  the  mental  operations  in  religion  in  all  times 
and  places  must  substantially  coincide,  it  is  also  true 
that  "  there  are  diversities  of  operations,  though  the 
same  God  worketh  all  in  all."  1  Cor.  xii.  6.  At  one 
time  a  class  of  errors  may  prevail  in  the  church,  which 
may  somewhat  modify  the  mental  operations  of  Chris- 
tians. At  another,  peculiar  forms  of  temptation  may 
assail  them  which  may  require  special  caution  and 
guarding  in  regard  to  some  points  of  Christian  character. 
At  another,  some  form  of  allurement,  or  fascination  may 
prevail  in  the  world  that  shall  tend  to  ensnare  Chris- 
tians themselves,  and  lead  them  from  the  path  of  duty. 
In  one  country  the  national  habits  or  manners  may 
modify  the  character  of  piety  in  the  church,  and  destroy 
its  simplicity  and  fair  proportion.  In  all  these  circum- 
stances, books  of  piety  are  demanded  to  meet  the  pe- 
culiar circumstances  of  each  age  and  people.  God 
usually  raises  up  men,  and  qualifies  them  to  meet  the 
circumstances  of  their  times,  and  to  dwell  especially  on 
those  points  pertaining  to  the  Christian  character  which 
it  may  be  desirable  especially  to  present.  It  is  not  true, 
however,  that  such  writings  have,  of  necessity,  an 
ephemeral  existence.  They  may  imbody  great  prin- 
ciples which  shall  carry  them  down  far  beyond  the  oc- 
casion which  called  them  forth ;  or  they  may  be  ex- 
pressed in  such  beauty  of  language,  and  felicity  of  illus- 
tration, as  to  make  them  standard  works  in  other  times 
on  the  various  points  of  Christian  experience.  They 
are,  besides,  important  historical  documents  of  the  gen- 


INTRODUCTION. 


eral  features  of  the  piety  of  the  times  in  which  they 
were  written,  and  will  convey  in  the  most  clear  and 
striking  manner  the  nature  of  the  dangers  which  assail 
the  piety  of  the  church.  To  refer  to  one  single  illus- 
tration. The  effect  of  the  French  Revolution  was  to 
spread  the  opinions  of  infidelity  extensively  among  the 
lower  classes  in  England ;  and  even  to  threaten  to  un- 
settle, in  the  more  elevated  ranks  of  society,  the  attach- 
ment to  the  principles  of  Christianity.  In  this  state  of 
things,  God  was  pleased  eminently  to  qualify  Mrs. 
Hannah  More  to  adapt  a  series  of  striking  and  pungent 
tracts  to  the  lower  classes  ;  and  to  exhibit  the  principles 
of  Christianity  with  uncommon  purity  and  elegance  of 
style  to  the  more  elevated  ranks  in  the  British  empire. 
So  well  adapted  were  her  talents  to  her  times  that  she 
perhaps  contributed  more  than  any  other  individual  to 
arrest  the  progress  of  unbelief,  and  to  preserve  respect 
for  evangelical  Christianity  among  the  great.  So  well 
lias  her  task  been  executed,  also,  that  her  works  have 
become  connected  with  the  classical  glory  of  the  British 
nation,  and  will  be  transmitted  to  future  times,  not  only 
as  important  historical  documents  in  regard  to  the  char- 
acter of  her  times,  but  as  imbodying  the  great  principles 
of  vital  Christianity  adapted  to  every  age. 

If  a  judgment  may  be  formed  from  a  perusal  of  the 
writings  of  the  Rev.  Mr.  Phihp,  it  would  seem  that  one 
of  his  main  purposes  was  to  guard  Christians  against 
the  evils  of  Antinomianism — evils  which  corrupt  the 
church  wherever  they  exist,  and  which,  perhaps  more 
than  any  other  class  of  errors,  destroy  its  vitality,  and 
annihilate  the  power  of  true  religion.  In  England,  it  is 
known  that  these  evils  have,  in  former  times,  extensively 
existed.  In  our  own  land  they  also  abound  ;  and  the 
consequence  is  every  where  seen  in  indifference  to  vital 
religion,  in  self-security,  in  opposition  to  revivals,  and 


INTRODUCTION.  \) 

in  indifference  to  the  efforts  which  are  made  for  the 
world's  conversion.  Whatever  tends  to  check  or  oppose 
these  evils  always  does  good ;  and  whoever,  in  the 
shghtest  degree,  is  enabled  to  resist  and  destroy  the 
spirit  of  Antinomianism,  does  not  live  in  vain. 

III.  There  are,  in  our  own  times,  and  in  our  own  land, 
peculiar  forms  of  evil  which  affect  the  purity  of  the 
church,  and  which  extensively  operate  to  render  the 
piety  of  Christians  less  deep,  and  pure,  and  intelligent, 
and  decided,  than  is  required  in  the  New  Testament, 
and  by  the  character  of  the  times.  There  is  a  dispo- 
sition to  cherish  the  hopes  of  eternal  life  on  slender 
grounds,  and  on  examination  much  less  thorough,  than 
were  demanded  in  former  times.  There  is  an  activity, 
a  restlessness,  an  impatience  in  this  age,  which  are 
greatly  unfavourable  to  a  profound  and  thorough,  exam- 
ination of  the  heart.  There  is  a  degree  of  worldly- 
mindedness  in  the  church,  which  tends  to  divert  the  at- 
tention from  spiritual-mindedness,  and  from  the  self- 
denying  duties  of  religion.  Christians  have  become 
affected  with  the  prevailing  mania  in  pursuit  of  wealth 
to  a  degree  which  perhaps  has  been  unequalled  in  other 
ages ;  and  amidst  the  general  anxiety  for  wealth,  and 
the  general  activity,  they  find  little  time  for  a  close 
study  of  the  Bible,  or  for  an  examination  of  their  own 
hearts.  There  is  much,  as  a  consequence,  that  is  un- 
settled, and  unfixed  in  their  views  of  religion  itself.  It 
is  not  looked  at  calmly,  coolly,  prayerfully,  as  it  should 
be.  The  doctrines  of  the  Bible  are  in  danger  of  being 
overlooked ;  and  whatever  cannot  be  turned  to  imme- 
diate action  and  account  is  regarded  as  of  comparative- 
ly Httle  value. 

Many  other  tendencies  of  these  times  might  be  no- 
ticed. But  these  will  direct  to  the  general  character  of 
all  the  dangers  that  threaten  the  piety  of  the  church  in 


10  INTRODUCTION. 

this  age.  They  arise  from  the  restless,  active,  busy, 
unsettled,  and  disorganizing  character  of  this  genera- 
tion— characteristics  which,  while  they  are  doing  won- 
ders in  many  respects,  in  subjecting  a  continent  to  the 
plough,  and  in  elevating  valleys,  and  levelling  moun- 
tains, to  construct  canals  and  railroads,  and  m  rearing, 
as  if  by  enchantment,  towns  and  cities  in  all  the  Western 
world,  are  at  the  same  time  threatening  to  undermine 
the  old  modes  of  thinking,  and  the  principles  which 
time  had  fixed  as  sure,  and  the  laws  on  which  the  na- 
tional welfare  depends,  and  the  religion  which  alone  can 
give  purity  and  permanency  to  these  institutions  them- 
selves. 

He  accomplishes  an  important  purpose  to  the  gener- 
ation who  prepares  books  on  Christian  experience  that 
shall  be  adapted  to  meet  the  evils  which  threaten  the 
piety  of  the  church.  I  regard  the  series  of  "  Guides" 
here  published  as  adapted,  in  an  eminent  manner,  to 
accomplish  this  purpose.  I  should  regard  their  exten- 
sive circulation  as  fitted  to  promote  the  spirituality  of 
Christians,  to  make  them  acquainted  with  their  own 
hearts,  and  with  the  power  of  the  religion  which  they 
profess  to  love ;  and  as  an  indication  of  a  disposition 
among  Christians  to  examine  deeply  the  foundations  of 
their  piety,  and  to  cultivate  communion  with  God. 

ALBERT  BARNES. 

Philadelphia,  October  21,  1S36. 


CONTENTS 


VOLUME    I. 


CHRISTIAN   EXPERIENCE; 

OB,  A  GUIDE  TO  THE  FEBFLEXEO. 

FAOB. 

I.    The  Work  of  the  Law  upon  the  Conscience 13 

n.    The  Work  of  the  Spirit  on  the  Heart 23 

m.    The  Witness  of  the  Spirit 34 

IV.    The  Special  Fruits  of  the  Spirit 43 

V.    Justification  oy  Faith 52 

VI.     Fellowship  with  God  and  the  Lamb 60 

VII.     The  hope  of  Salvation  the  best  safeguard  of  the  understanding 

against  error,  and  of  the  heart  against  sin 69 

Vin.     Devotional  Self  examination 79 

IX.     The  Temptations  and  Fiery  Darts  of  Satan 88 

X.    The  Fluctuations  of  Religious  Feeling  and  Enjoyment 97 

XI.     Causes  of  Backsliding 106 

XIL     Sanctified  Alilictions 115 

XIII.     Experimental  Maxims 122 


COMMUNION    WITH     GOD; 

OK,  A  GUIDE  TO  THE  DEVOTIONAL. 

L    Access  to  God 127 

II.  The  Promises  ol  God  to  the  Prayerful,  the  Real  Answers  to  Prayer. .  136 

in.    The  Affinity  of  Fervent  Prayer  and  Saving  Faith 146 

IV.     Prayer,  Proof  of  the  Work  and  Witness  of  the  Holy  Spirit 160 

V.    The  Actual  Presence  and  Help  of  the  Spirit  in  Prayer 167 

VI.     Walking  in  "the  light,"  essential  to  Fellowship  with  God 175 

VII.     A  Devotional  Spirit  essential  to  the  Enjoyment  of  the  Promises 184 

VIII.    Devotional  Preparation  for  the  Sanctuary 193 

IX.  The  Influence  of  Prayer  upon  peace  of  mind  under  the  trials  of  life. .  202 

X.    The  Saviour's  Devotional  Habits 212 

XI.    Communion  with  God  in  Affliction 218 

Xn.    Sacramental  Communion  with  God  and  the  Lamb 225 


ETERNITY    REALIZED; 

OR,  A  GUIDE  TO  THE  THOUGHTFUL. 

L    The  Duty  of  Reahzing  Eternity 237 

n.    The  Possibility  of  Realizing  Eternity 249 

in.    The  Excuses  for  not  Realizing  Eternity 258 

IV.    Nominal  Faith,  from  not  Realizing  Eternity 270 

V.    Spiritual  Declension,  from  not  Realizing  Eternity 280 

VI.    Faith,  beheving  unto  Eternal  Life 290 

11 


12  CONTENTS. 

PAOE. 

Vn.    Eternity  Realized  in  the  Sanctuary 302 

VIII.     Eternity  Realized  at  the  Sacrament 312 

K.    Eternity  Realized  at  Home 323 

X.    Christ,  the  Glory  of  Eternity 336 


VOLUME    II. 
THE    GOD    OF    GLORY; 

OR,  A  GUIDE  TO  THE  DOUBTING. 

I.    Abraham's  Faith,  an  imitable  example 3 

II.     The  General  Character  of  Doubting 12 

III.  The  Real  Character  of  Doubting 20 

IV.  The  Chief  Cause  of  Doubting 29 

V.     Goodness,  the  Glory  of  God 37 

VI.    Jesus,  the  Brightness  of  the  Father's  Glory 47 

VII.     Divine  Counsels  to  the  Doubting 66 

VIII.     On  Doubts  about  Prayer 78 

IX.    Doubts  from  Indwelling  Sin 96 


PLEASING   GOD; 

OH,  A  GUIDE   TO   THE    CONSCIENTIOUS. 

I.    On  the  Fear  of  Displeasing  God < 113 

II.    On  Repenting  80  as  to  Please  God 126 

III.  On  Believing  so  as  to  Please  God 135 

IV.  On  Pleasing  God  in  Public  Worship 154 

V.     On  Plea.sing  God  in  the  Closet 166 

VI.     On  Pleasing  God  by  Family  Holiness 175 

vn.     On  Pleasing  God  by  our  Temper 186 

VIII.     On  Pleasing  God  by  the  Application  of  Money 196 

IX.     On  Pleasing  God  by  Doing  Good 205 


REDEMPTION; 

OR,  THE   NEW   SONG   IN    HEAVEN. 

I.  Design  of  the  New  Song 223 

II.  Apocalypse  of  the  New  Song 234 

III.  Burden  of  the  New  Song 240 

IV.  Mysteries  of  the  New  Song 247 

V.     Newness  of  tho  New  Song 257 

VI.     Providence  and  the  New  Song 274 

VII.    Regal  Priesthood  of  the  New  Song 284 

VIII.     Doxolopy  of  the  New  Song 293 

IX.     Perpetuity  of  the  New  Song  Explained 305 

X.    Relative  Appeals  of  the  New  Song 316 

XI.    Eternal  Redemption..  ..j 328 


OR   A 

GUIDE  TO  THE  PERPLEXED. 


CONTENTS 


Page. 
I.  The  Work  of  the  Law  upon  the  Conscience  .  .  .13 
n.  The  Work  of  the  Spirit  on  the  Heart      ....         23 

ni.  The  Witness  of  the  Spirit 34 

IV.  The  Special  Fruits  of  the  Spirit 43 

V.  Justification  by  Faith 52 

VI.  Fellowship  with  God  and  the  Lamb  ....         60 

VII.  The  hope  of  Salvation  the  best  safeguard  of  the  understand- 
ing against  error,  and  of  the  heart  against  sin  .         .     69 

VIII.  Devotional  Self-examination 79 

IX.  The  Temptations  and  Fiery  Darts  of  Satan  .         .  .88 

X.  The  Fluctuations  of  Religious  Feeling  and  Enjoyment      .         97 

XI.  Causes  of  Backsliding 106 

XII.  Sanctified  Afflictions 115 

XIII.  Experimental  Maxims 122 


No.  I. 

THE  WORK  OP  THE  LAW  UPON  THE  CONSCIENCE. 

"  Without  the  Law,  sin  is  dead."  This  is  true,  both  of 
the  Moral  Law  of  Duty  and  of  the  Evangelical  Law  of 
Faith :  for  until  their  authority  and  spirituality  are  under- 
stood and  felt,  we  do  not  understand  the  evil  of  sin,  nor 
feel  the  power  of  it.  Like  Paul  before  his  conversion,  we 
VOL.  I. — 2 


14  THE     WORK    or    THE     LAW 

are  "  alive,  Avithout  the  law  :"  not  afraid  of  perishing,  nor 
at  all  affected  by  the  plagaies  of  our  hearts  :  not  seriously 
displeased  with  ourselves,  nor  conscious  of  the  displeasure 
of  God. 

It  is  humiliating  to  look  back  on  this  state  of  mind.  We 
acted  and  felt  as  if  there  had  been  no  law  at  all,  or  as  if 
there  had  been  no  more  law  than  we  ourselves  chose  to 
admit.  We  obeyed  no  farther  than  suited  our  own  inclin- 
ations, and  no  longer  than  suited  our  own  convenience. 
And  yet,  awful  infatuation!  we  were  neither  afraid  nor 
ashamed.  Indeed,  we  never  paused  to  consider  seriously 
the  divine  law,  or  its  sanctions ;  but  judged  of  right  and 
wrong  by  public  opinion.  The  world,  not  God,  was  our 
lawgiver ;  and  accordingly,  when  we  did  not  incur  blame 
for  others,  we  suspected  none  from  God ;  and  when  any 
part  of  our  conduct  was  condemned  by  others,  we  even 
took  for  granted  that  he  would  judge  more  charitably  and 
mercifully  than  our  neighbours  did.  Thus  we  had  scarcely 
one  scriptural  idea  of  the  nature  or  the  authority  of  the 
Eternal  law.  Accordingly,  whilst  thus  "  without  the  law," 
or  without  a  right  sense  of  its  obligations  and  sanctions, 
we  were  quite  *'  alive  ;" — both  fearless  and  gay  ;  neither 
self-condemned  in  our  own  minds,  nor  aware  that  God  had 
condemned  us.  "  /Sm,"  also  "  was  dead,"  whilst  w^c  were 
thus  ignorant  of  the  spirituality  and  strictness  of  the  Divine 
law.  Not,  indeed,  that  sin  itself  was  dead  in  our  hearts  : 
far  from  it !  But  such  were  our  slight  views  of  the  evil 
of  sin,  that  it  might  have  been  dead,  for  any  uneasiness  or 
alarm  it  occasioned  withm  us.  It  did  not  pain  our  hearts 
nor  awaken  our  consciences  :  it  left  us  at  "  ease"  even  "  in 
Zion,"  and  threw  no  cloud  on  our  spirits  or  our  prospects. 
We  looked  as  safe  and  smiling  as  if  we  had  had  no  sin,  or 
as  if  sin  involved  no  punishment.  Thus  sin  was  virtually 
dead,  whilst  we  were  inattentive  to  the  demands  and 
denunciations  of  the  Divine  law. 

Nor  was  this  all.     Whilst  without  scriptural  views  of 
the  holiness  and  justness  of  the  law,  wc  were  not  aware  of 


UPON     THE    CONSCIENCE.  15 

the  power  which  sin  had  over  us,  nor  of  the  strength  of  our 
love  to  it.  The  evil  principles  of  our  hearts  did  not  show 
all  their  evil,  because  we  laid  no  powerful  constraint  upon 
them.  We  had  never  tried  to  be  very  good,  and  therefore 
we  did  not  discover  that  cur  hearts  were  very  bad.  In- 
deed, we  thought  better  of  our  hearts  than  of  our  lives. 
The  reason  is  obvious  :  we  let  our  hearts  have  their  own 
way,  and  allowed  them  to  think  and  feel  as  they  were  in- 
clined. Whatever  religious  restraints  we  laid  upon  our 
iips  or  our  hands,  we  imposed  none  upon  our  thoughts : 
they  might  range  and  revel  as  they  chose,  if  they  only 
kept  clear  of  painful  and  spiritual  subjects.  It  w^as,  there- 
fore, unlikely — inrleed  impossible — that  our  hearts  should 
manifest  all  their  enmity  to  the  laws  of  God,  whilst  these 
iaws  w^ere  not  applied  to  them.  We  did  not  set  them  to 
try  to  love  or  fear  God :  we  did  not  call  on  them  to  consid- 
er divine  and  eternal  things  seriously  :  we  gave  them  no 
iasks  in  devotion,  meditation,  or  self-control.  In  a  word, 
we  did  not  at  all  trouble  our  hearts  to  be  religious  ;  and 
therefore  they  did  not  trouble  us  by  any  great  opposition  to 
the  few  religious  duties  we  performed  :  but  let  us  have  our 
own  way,  so  long  as  they  had  their  own  vi^ay.  And  this 
was  one  chief  reason  why  our  hopes  of  final  safety  kept 
"  alive,"^  whilst  we  were  without  the  law :  we  thought  well 
of  our  hearts,  because  they  offered  no  marked  opposition  to 
the  morals  or  the  religion  which  we  attended  to.  We  at- 
tended to  110  more  than  was  barely  sufficient  to  save  us 
from  being  called  irreligious  ;  and,  the  pride  of  the  heart 
allowed  that  degree  of  duty  at  all  times  ;  and  on  solemn 
occasions,  a  little  more  :  whereas  if  we  had  tried  to  set 
our  hearts  to  the  serious  consideration  and  the  spiritual  dis- 
charge of  all  duty,  they  would  have  soon  shown  that  they 
were  "  hearts  of  stone." 

This  is,  indeed,  a  humiliating  review  of  our  former  habits 
of  acting  and  judging ;  but  it  is  well  both  to  take  it,  and  to 
declare  it,  because  the  declaration  of  it  may  prove  useful 
to  others.     To  ourselves  such  a  retrospect  must  be  useful, 


36  THE     WORK     OF     THE     LAW 

were  it  only  to  enable  us  to  discern  the  change  which  has 
taken  place  in  our  views  and  feelings  on  this  subject. 

Now  we  can  truly  say,  that  however  we  were  alive,  or 
sin  dead,  whilst  we  did  not  allow  the  law  to  speak  to  our 
consciences,  "  when  the  commandment  came,  sin  revived,  and 
we  dicd.^^  Our  ill-grounded  hopes  of  heaven,  and  our  good 
opinion  of  our  own  hearts,  fell  dead  before  the  scriptural 
fact,  that  the  Eternal  law  demands  and  admits  nothing 
short  of  perfect  obedience.  The  solemn  denunciation, 
"  Cursed  is  he  who  continucth  not  in  all  things  written  in 
the  hook  of  the  law,  to  do  them^''  awoke  us  at  once  to  our 
guilt  and  danger  ;  and  the  declaration,  that  "  hy  the  deeds 
of  the  law,  no  flesh  living  shall  he  justifled,^^  confounded  us. 
We  were  thus  reduced  to  a  complete  dilemma  :  we  saw 
that  we  had  not  kept  the  law  ;  we  felt  that  we  were  unable 
to  keep  it  perfectly  ;  and  now  we  understood  that,  however 
well  we  might  keep  it  in  future,  the  obedience  would  not 
atone  for  our  past  sins. 

We  know  not  what  to  do,  or  what  to  think,  when  these 
solemn  facts  flash  upon  our  minds  ;  they  were  so  unlike  all 
our  former  opinions.  We  had,  indeed,  heard  and  read 
them,  but  they  had  not  struck  nor  startled  us  before.  How 
could  they  1  We  had  never  seriously  weighed  their  im- 
port, nor  suspected  their  application  to  ourselves  ;  and  now 
that  we  saw  both,  it  seemed  too  late  to  remedy  our  mis- 
takes. For  what  could  we  do  with  a  law  which  condemn- 
ed us  for  past  sins,  and  would  not  allow  present  duty  to 
make  up  for  them?  We  were  willing  to  reform,  and  to 
lead  a  new  life ;  but  what  was  the  use  of  doing  so,  if  the 
change  could  not  save  our  souls  ?  Thus  there  seemed  no 
encouragement  to  do  better,  and  no  benefit  to  be  derived 
from  it. 

Our  case  now  began  to  wear  a  hopeless  aspect,  and 
would  have  been  held  desperate,  had  not  our  floating  ideas 
about  the  mercy  of  God,  and  the  merits  of  Jesus  Christ, 
kept  despair  in  check.  We  had  never  indeed  examined, 
with  any  care,  the  nature  of  divine  mercy,  or  the  design  of 


UPON     THE     CONSCIENCE.  17 

the  Saviour's  death ;  but  we  took  for  granted  that,  of  course, 
they  were  intended  to  help  us  in  some  way,  and  no  way, 
that  we  knew  of  then,  seemed  so  Ukely  as  their  making  up 
for  our  defects,  if  we  did  our  best  to  live  well  in  future. 
Accordingly,  under  this  hope,  we  began  to  reform,  and 
tried  to  repent.  We  determined  to  confess,  very  humbly, 
all  our  past  sins  and  shortcomings,  and  to  be  very  devout 
in  our  religious  duties.  But,  lo !  to  our  surprise,  our  hearts 
would  not  fix  nor  feel !  They  wandered  in  prayer,  and 
wavered  in  all  their  pious  resolutions — they  invented  ex- 
cuses for  the  neglect  of  some  duties,  and  soon  tired  of 
others.  This  we  had  not  looked  for  ;  but,  indeed,  calcula- 
ted that  our  hearts  would  follow  up  all  the  dictates  of  our 
consciences.  What  was  to  be  done  1  We  determined  to 
master  this  aversion  to  spiritual  things  ;  to  force  them  to  be 
penitent  and  devotional.  But  all  would  not  do  ;  they  actu- 
ally became  worse,  instead  of  better,  the  more  we  tried  to 
subject  them  to  the  authority  of  the  Divine  law. 

Thus  it  was  ;  "  when  the  commandment  came"  home  to 
our  hearts,  demanding  sincerity  and  spirituality,  "  sin  re- 
vived.^'' 

The  principles  of  the  carnal  mind  flew  up  in  arms  when 
the  power  of  godliness  attempted  to  sit  down  on  the  throne 
of  the  heart.  Then  our  pride  objected  to  the  humility,  our 
sloth  to  the  diligence,  our  passions  to  the  self-denial,  and 
our  tempers  to  the  strictness,  of  true  holiness  :  the  whole 
soul  shrunk  back  from  the  "  yoke"  of  Christ,  or  tried  to 
break  it ;  and  the  real,  though  secret,  language  of  the  heart 
was,  "  we  will  not  have  this  man  to  reign  over  us^  ♦  Thus 
we  found  that  our  hearts  were  as  unwilling  to  obey  Christ 
fully  as  they  were  unable  to  keep  the  law  perfectly :  and 
therefore  the  Gospel  (as  we  understood  it  then,  and  as  some 
understand  it  now)  left  us  as  hopeless  as  the  law  had  done. 
And  in  this  way :  how  could  the  Saviour  be  expected  to 
make  up  the  defects  of  a  heartless  piety  ?  We  felt  that 
our  religion  was  all  forced  work,  and  likely  to  continue  to 
be  so ;  and  as  our  opinion  of  the  work  of  Christ  was,  that 
2* 


is  THEWORKOFTHELAW 

he  only  helped  out  those  who  did  their  best :  of  course,  we 
had  nothing  to  expect  from  him,  because  nothing  to  give 
him,  now  that  our  hearts  seemed  to  grow  worse  instead  of 
better.  In  a  word,  we  could  make  notliing  of  the  law  or 
Gospel,  but  despair  or  discouragement  in  our  own  case. 
The  law  had  condemned  us,  and  it  seemed  inevitable  that 
the  Gospel  would  do  so  too. 

In  this  condition — convinced  of  the  importance  of  per- 
sonal religion,  but  feeling  it  almost  impossible  to  be  reli- 
gious ;  alive  to  the  value  of  the  soul,  but  seeing  no  way  of 
securing  its  salvation — many  are  kept  on  the  rack  of  sus- 
pense, and  some  on  the  rack  of  utter  despair.  And  when 
such  distress  of  soul  falls  in,  as  it  frequently  docs,  with  a 
nervous  frame  of  body,  or  a  melancholy  cast  of  mind,  the 
suffering  is  dreadful — indeed  dangerous-;  for  the  tendency 
of  such  minds  is  to  indulge  hopelessness.  Accordingly 
some  do  nothing  else  but  "  write  bitter  thinirs"  aoainst 
themselves ;  setting  themselves  down  as  certainly  lost  be- 
yond redemption,  and  interpreting  all  their  agonizing  feel- 
ings into  marks  of  reprobation.  Under  this  horrid  persua- 
sion, they  give  up  prayer  entirely,  and  feel  inclined  to  have 
done  with  the  word  of  God,  and  the  house  of  God  forever. 
Indeed,  they  would  do  so,  were  it  not  that  they  cannot 
abandon  either  for  any  length  of  time.  There  is  some 
fascination  about  the  means  of  grace,  which  draws  even 
the  hopeless  back  to  them,  in  spite  of  despair,  sooner  or 
later.  They  may  say  that  they  look  for  no  good  from  any 
means,  and  that  they  are  sure  to  iiud  none  ;  but  still  they 
do  "l^ok  again"  to  the  temple  of  God,  and  cannot  tear 
themselves  finally  away  from  it,  nor  utterly  forgot  thnt  sal- 
vation which  seems  lost  to  them.  The  truth  is,  despair  is 
not  natural  to  the  human  mind  ;  and  therefore,  although  ^/.y 
of  it  maybe  indulged  frequently,  the  intervals  of  it  are  often 
employed  in  re-examining  the  grounds  of  hope,  and  ad- 
mitting a  "  may  be,"  or  "  peradventure,"  of  salvation.  The 
question,  "  Who  can  tell  ?"  occasionally  leads  away  the 
thoughts  from  the  dark  side  to  the  bright  side  of  it,  and 


UPON    THE    CONSCIENCE.  19 

fixes  them  there  long  enough  to  brighten  them  a  little. 
And  although  it  seems,  to  the  soul,  almost  sinful  to  admit 
the  faintest  ray  of  hope  in  its  own  case,  and  almost  a  duty 
to  banish  it  at  once  ;  still  it  is  admitted  and  retained  from 
time  to  time,  until  it  gradually  leads  to  the  resolution  of  in- 
quiring more  fully  into  the  way  of  salvation. 

Now,  when  this  is  the  case,  and  the  mind  is  willing  to 
examine  the  matter  calmly  and  deliberately,  it  is  well  to 
begin  with  the  example  of  Paul :  for  God  showed  mercy  to 
him,  that  he  might  show  in  him  "  a  pattern  of  all  long-suf- 
fering to  them  who  should  afterward  believe."  Besides, 
as  the  Law  has  had  the  same  effect  on  you  which  it  had  on 
Paul,  it  certainly  is  not  impossible  that  the  Gospel  should 
have  the  same  eflect  on  you  that  it  had  on  him.  Now,  you 
can  truly  say  with  him  in  the  former  case,  "  I  was  alive 
without  the  law  once  ;  but  when  the  commandment  came, 
sin  revived,  and  I  died."  Yes  ;  you  are  sure  that  you  are 
dead  to  all  hope  of  being  saved  by  the  law  now,  and  that 
your  hearts  are  far  worse  than  you  could  have  imagined 
them  to  be.  AVell ;  how  did  Paul  act  and  judge,  when  by 
the  law  he  became  dead  to  the  law  ?  The  shock  which 
thus  shook  his  self-righteousness  to  death,  must,  you  are 
aware,  have  been  tremendous !  Accordingly,  "  he  was 
three  days  without  sight,  and  neither  did  eat  nor  drinks 
But  he  PRAYED !  Yes  :  neither  his  guilt  nor  his  misery 
led  him  to  restrain  prayer  before  God ;  nor  did  they  pre- 
vent him  from  believing  the  Gospel  when  it  was  preached 
unto  him  by  Ananias.  He  gave  "  all  acceptation"  to  the 
'•  saying,"  as  soon  as  he  knew  it  to  be  "  a  faithful  saying, 
that  Christ  Jesus  came  into  the  world  to  save  sinners." 
Although  he  felt  himself  to  be  the  "  chief"  of  sinners,  he 
did  not  hesitate  to  believe  in  Christ  for  his  own  salvation. 
He  believed  on  Christ,  that  he  might  be  justified  by  the 
faith  of  Christ :  and  being  justified  by  faith,  he  had  peace 
with  God.  Now  this  was  acting  wisely  ;  and  thus  should 
all  act,  whose  hopes  of  salvation  by  the  works  of  the  law, 
have  been  slain  by  the  curse  of  the  law. 


20  THE    WORK    OF    THE    LAW 

If,  however,  Paul's  case  be  thought  too  peculiar  to  ar- 
gue from — one  thing  is  certain ;  we  have  the  same  Gospel, 
in  the  Scriptures,  which  relieved  his  mind,  and  became  the 
power  of  God  unto  his  salvation.  Nor  is  this  all :  we  have 
also  the  command  of  God  to  believe  it  for  our  own  salva- 
tion ;  and  his  express  assurance,  that  believing  it  will  save 
us.  If,  then,  all  our  old  hopes  are  crushed  to  death  by  the 
law,  why  not  embrace  the  new  and  better  hopes  which  this 
glorious  gospel  sets  before  us  ? 

"  Why  not  ?"  some  are  ready  to  say,  "  they  are  not  in- 
tended for  me  :  they  belong  to  the  penitent ;  and  my  heart 
is  hard ! — they  belong  to  the  humble  ;  and  my  heart  is 
proud ! — they  belong  to  the  believing ;  and  I  cannot  be- 
lieve !" 

Cannot  believe  !  Why  ?  What  is  it  that  you  cannot  be- 
lieve ?  Let  us  see  what  it  really  is  ;  and  why  you  cannot 
believe  it :  for  it  may  be  that  it  is  something  not  necessary 
to  be  believed  at  present ;  yea,  it  may  be  something  which 
is  not  your  duty  to  believe  just  now.  Do  not,  therefore, 
fly  off  from  the  Gospel  by  a  hasty  conclusion  that  you  can- 
not believe  it :  you  do  not  seem  to  understand  it  yet ;  and, 
therefore,  the  difficulty  of  believing  it  may  not  be  so  great 
as  you  imagine — at  least,  not  of  the  same  kind  as  you  sup- 
pose. 

What,  then,  is  it  that  you  cannot  believe  ?  Yes !  what  is 
it  ?  For  there  is  reason  to  suspect  that  it  is  either  some- 
thing which  it  is  not  necessary  to  begin  with ;  or  some- 
thincr  which  oue^ht  not  to  be  believed,  until  "  the  truth"  is 
believed,  with  which  God  has  graciously  connected  the 
promise  of  salvation. 

The  answers  to  these  pointed  questions  Avill,  of  course, 
vary  according  to  the  degree  in  which  those  who  arc  inter- 
ested in  them  are  acquainted  with  the  current  opinions  and 
perplexities  of  serious  people.  Hence  some  will  say, 
"  Ah !  but  I  cannot  believe  that  Christ  died  for  /ne."  Now, 
be  not  startled  when  I  say,  "  No  wonder !  for  how  could 
you  believe  what  is  not  revealed  ?"     And  it  is  not  revealed 


UPON    THE     CONSCIENCE.  21 

that  he  died  for  you  individually.  What  is  revealed  is,  that 
he  died  for  sinners  ;  and  that  you  do  not  disbelieve.  But 
you  say,  "  As  I  cannot  regard  myself  as  one  of  the  sinners 
for  whom  Christ  died,  my  believing  that  he  died  for  sin- 
ners can  do  me  no  good."  Why  not  ?  Who  told  you  that 
the  beUef  of  this  truth  could  do  you  no  good  ?  Whoever 
told  you  so,  the  Scriptures  did  not.  They  say,  (whatever 
you  think,)  that  whosoever  believeth  Jesus  Christ  to  be  the 
Son  of  God,  and  the  only  Saviour,  shall  never  perish,  but 
have  eternal  life  :  yea,  they  warrant  every  one  who  cor- 
dially believes  these  facts  concerning  Christ,  to  believe  also 
that  Christ  loved  him,  and  gave  himself  for  him. 

This  meets  your  case,  if  you  understood  it :  but  you  are 
prepared  to  start  objections  which  will  prove  that  you  do 
not  understand  it  clearly  yet.  "  Why,"  you  say,  "  if  merely 
believing,  that  Christ  is  the  Son  of  God,  and  the  only  Sav- 
iour, were  Plough  to  warrant  me  to  regard  myself  as  a 
believer,  it  would  follow  that  I  was  one  even  whilst  I  was 
careless ;  for  even  then  I  believed  all  this."  Not  exactly; 
for  you  could  not  have  continued  careless,  if  you  had  really 
believed  it  all.  However,  if  you  will  carl  your  former  opin- 
ion of  Christ  believing  ;  it  was  certainly  not  believing,  be- 
cause God  had  spoken :  for  it  is  evident  from  your  own 
cpnfessions,  that,  whilst  you  were  careless,  you  did  not 
examine  the  law  or  the  Gospel.  If,  therefore,  your  opin- 
ions of  the  person  and  work  of  Christ  happened  to  be, 
upon  the  Avhole,  scriptural,  they  were  so  without  your 
knov/ledge  ;  for  if  you  never  sat  down  to  form  them  by  the 
word  of  God,  it  is  not  owing  to  your  care  that  they  were  at 
all  correct.  Besides,  you  did  not  believe  what  you  did,  on 
the  Divine  authority  ;  but  because  others  believed  it.  Be 
honest :  you  just  believed  what  you  found  current  in  the 
world ;  and  would  have  believed  what  others  did,  if  it  had 
been  the  very  opposite  of  what  it  is.  Now,  however,  this 
falling  in  with  public  ophiion  may  be  called  believing,  it 
certainly  is  not  believing  God :  and  therefore  ought  not  to 
be  appealed  to  in  reply  to  the  scriptural  fact,  that  the  cor- 


22  THEWORKOFTHELAW 

dial  belief  of  the  Divine  testimony  concerning  the  person 
and  work  of  Christ,  is  saving  faith. 

Besides,  that  testimony  is  revealed,  that  it  may  be  be- 
lieved for  the  salvation  of  the  soul ;  and,  for  that  purpose, 
you  did  not,  you  could  not,  believe  it,  whilst  you  were 
careless.  How  could  you  ?  Whilst  you  were  without  the 
law  in  your  conscience,  your  hopes  were  alive  without  the 
Gospel.  You  felt  in  no  danger  of  perishing  :  you  took  for 
granted  that  you  were  sure  of  salvation  at  last,  by  some 
means.  Whatever,  therefore,  you  believed  about  Christ 
then,  it  was  not  for  salvation.  Accordingly,  you  never 
thought  so,  nor  at  all  imagined  that  your  opinions  about  the 
Saviour  had  any  connexion  with  your  supposed  safety. 
What  you  relied  on  then,  was  the  good  you  were  doing,  or 
intended  to  do ;  and  not  any  thing  that  Christ  had  done. 
Indeed,  even  now  you  do  not  see  much  beneficial  connex- 
ion between  believing  and  salvation ; — I  mean,  you  are 
quite  at  a  loss  to  comprehend  how  the  belief  of  the  Gospel 
can  secure  an  interest  in  the  salvation  of  God.  On  all 
these  accounts,  therefore,  it  is  wrong,  and  can  only  increase 
your  perplexity,  to  call  your  former  opinions  about  Christ 
belief.  They  were  like  your  former  opinions  about  the 
law — too  vague  and  superficial  to  affect  your  heart. 

But  now,  your  belief  of  the  Divine  law  will  enable  you 
to  understand  what  it  is  to  believe  the  Gospel  aright,  and  to 
see  how  faith  in  Christ  brings  both  hope  and  holiness  into 
the  mind.  You  know  and  feel  that  you  now  believe  the 
law  of  God :  of  that  you  have  no  doubt ;  and  you  are 
equally  convinced  that  you  neither  believed  nor  understood 
it,  whilst  you  were  careless.  And  were  any  one  to  tell  you 
now,  that  he  had  often  heard  you  call  it  a  holy  and  just  law, 
long  before  you  began  to  think  seriously ;  and  were  he  to 
argue  from  this  that  you  believed  it  then,  you  would  say  at 
once,  "  Ah  !  these  were  mere  words  of  courbo  ;  for  I  never 
weighed  their  meaning  :  I  just  called  tlie  law  what  others 
called  it ;  and  if  they  understood  what  they  said,  I  did  not. 
If  ever  I  thought  of  its  holiness,  it  did  not  convince  me  that 


UPON     THE      CONSCIENCE.  23 

nothing  short  of  perfect  obedience  could  meet  its  demands ; 
and  whatever  I  thought  of  its  justice,  I  did  not  believe  that 
I  was  condemned  by  it.  Now,  as  this  is  the  truth  of  God 
concerning  his  law,  it  is  self-evident  that  I  did  not  believe, 
at  that  time,  His  testimony  on  the  subject.  Indeed,  such 
was  my  unbelief  then,  that  I  was  in  reality  '  without  the 
law.' " 

Thus  you  would  reply,  to  any  one  who  attempted  to  con- 
found your  former  professions  with  your  present  belief  of 
the  law.  Well ;  it  is  your  present  belief  of  it  that  creates 
your  present  fear  of  perishing,  and  keeps  up  the  conviction 
in  your  mind  that  you  cannot  save  yourself.  Just  because 
you  believe  that  the  eternal  law  says  that  you  are  "  con- 
demned already"  for  what  you  have  done  against  it,  you 
are  afraid  ;  and  well  you  may  !  But  now,  the  everlasting 
Gospel  declares  as  plainly  what  Christ  has  done  to  satisfy 
the  law,  and  to  redeem  sinners  from  its  curse  ;  and  it  is 
just  as  true  that  he  died  to  redeem  sinners  from  its  curse, 
as  that  you  are  under  its  curse.  Seeing,  therefore,  you 
believe  the  truth  which  condemns,  why  not  believe  the  truth 
which  can  save  you  ?  You  need  salvation — you  wish  for 
it ;  and  would  give  worlds  to  obtain  eternal  redemption  from 
the  curse  :  well ;  it  is  offered  and  promised  to  you,  if  you 
will  believe  in  Christ  for  it ;  for  "  it  is  of  faith,  that  it  might 
be  of  grace." 


No.  II. 

THE    WORK    OF   THE    SPIRIT     ON     THE    HEART. 

There  is  something  so  very  grand  and  solemn  in  the 
bare  idea  of  being  "  taught"  by  the  Holy  Spirit—"  led"  by 
Him — "  quickened"  by  Him — "  born  again"  by  Him ! — 
that  ^e  can  hardly  wonder  that  we  should  feel  both  afraid 
and   unable,  at   first,  to  believe  that  any  change  for  the 


24  THE    WORK    OF    THE    SPIRIT 

better,  which  we  have  experienced  under  the  Gospel, 
amounts  to  the  work  of  the  Spirit.  For  to  believe  this,  in 
our  own  case,  would  be  to  admit  that  we  are  really  con- 
verted to  God,  and  thus  already  the  children  of  God,  and 
heirs  of  the  kingdom  of  heaven.  But  some,  although  no 
longer  what  they  were  in  heart  or  habits,  are  not  prepared 
to  draw  this  conclusion  in  their  own  case.  Indeed,  it  is 
not  at  once,  nor  is  it  often  soon,  that  any  one  admits  "  the 
full  assurance  of  hope"  in  his  ovm  case.  It  more  fre- 
quently happens  that  those  Avho  are  most  renewed  in  the 
spirit  of  their  mind,  are  most  afraid  to  regard  themselves 
as  "  bom  again."  It  is  with  the  serious,  in  regard  to  the 
regeneration  of  their  souls,  as  with  parents,  in  regard  to 
the  recovery  of  an  only  child  from  a  dangerous  illness : 
the  physician  may  pronounce  it  out  of  danger,  and  the 
symptoms  of  convalescence  may  be  self-evident  to  every 
one  but  them  ;  and  they  may  not  actually  dispute  the  gene- 
ral opinion  ;  but  having  again  and  again  given  up  their  dar- 
ling, and  felt  sure  that  it  could  not  recover,  they  are  afraid 
of  flattering  themselves,  and  '  slow  of  heart'  to  believe  that 
any  signs,  however  good,  are  proofs  of  safety.  So  it  is 
with  those  of  us  who  are  feelingly  alive  to  the  value  of  our 
souls,  and  intent  on  their  salvation :  they  may  be  really 
"  passing  from  death  to  life  ;"  but  we  are  so  afraid  of  that 
"  death,"  and  so  afliected  by  that  "  life,"  that  we  can  hardly 
believe  it  possible  that  our  souls  can  escape  the  former,  or 
obtain  the  latter.  It  seems  too  good  news  to  be  true — too 
bright  a  hope  to  be  admitted  in  our  own  case.  Even  when 
we  try  to  admit  it,  or  venture  to  whisper  to  ourselves,  that 
surely  a  divine  change  is  taking  place  within  us,  the 
thouglit  creates  such  a  flow  of  feeling,  and  flutter  of  spirits, 
that  we  know  not  what  to  think :  and,  being  equally  afraid 
of  presuming  or  despairing,  we  come  to  no  final  determina- 
tion ;  but  wait  to  see  how  the  good  work  will  go  on. 

Now,  it  is  well  to  be  cautious  upon  such  a  question  as 
"  the  rcncwimr  of  the  Ilohj  Ghost  "  for  all  changes  of  feel- 
ing are  not  Divine  changes.     Indeed,  there  is  but  too  much 


ON    THE    HEART.  25 

reason  to  fear  that  many  conclude  too  hastily  in  their  own 
favour,  and  mistake  conviction  for  conversion.  But  whilst 
this  melancholy  fact  should  teach  us  prudence,  it  should 
not  be  allowed  to  divert  us  from  the  question  of  our  own 
regeneration :  that  point  can  be  ascertained  and  settled 
upon  scriptural  grounds  ;  and  therefore  it  ought  no  more  to 
be  hushed  up,  than  to  be  hurried  over.  We  are  "  born 
again,"  or  we  are  not;  and,  as  uncertainty  on  the  point  can 
do  no  good,  it  is  both  our  duty  and  interest  to  bring  the 
matter  to  an  issue. 

Perhaps  the  best  way  of  doing  this  is,  to  reconsider  the 
necessity  of  experiencing  the  work  of  the  Spirit,  in  order 
that  we  may  see  clearly  the  consequences  of  being  without 
the  Spirit.  "  Now,  if  any  man  have  not  the  Spirit  of 
Christ,  he  is  none  of  his."  None  of  his !  Solemn  fact ! 
None  of  His  !  Whose,  then,  is  he  who  has  not  the  Spirit  ? 
The  law  says,  "  He  is  my  prisoner,  and  under  the  curse, 
whether  he  believe  it  or  not."  Satan  says,  "  He  is  my 
victim,  whether  he  feel  it  or  not."  The  world  says,  "  He 
is  my  slave,  whether  he  own  it  or  not."  Dreadful  condi- 
tion !  If  I  am  not  Christ's,  I  am  under  the  curse  of  the 
Eternal  law,  and  in  the  power  of  Satan  !  And  I  am  not 
Christ's,  if  I  am  a  stranger  to  the  work  of  the  Spirit. 

The  moment  we  reflect  thus,  we  feel  that  the  question, 
"  Have  ye  received  the  Holy  Ghost .?'  is  one  which 
should  not  be  left  unsettled  from  year  to  year,  nor  even 
from  month  to  month.  Let  us,  therefore,  put  it  to  ourselves, 
now,  and  in  connexion  with  the  solemn  assurance  that  we 
are  not  Christ's,  if  we  have  not  experienced  something  of 
the  work  of  his  Spirit.  And  if,  in  this  awful  connexion, 
there  is  some  danger  of  admitting  almost  any  thing  to  be 
"  the  fruits  of  the  Spirit,"  rather  than  admit  that  we  are  in 
the  power  of  Satan,  let  us  pray  earnestly  that  we  may  not 
be  tempted  to  self-deception  :  but,  at  the  same  time,  let  not 
that  danger  prevent  nor  intimidate  us  from  going  into  the 
question ;  for,  although  a  solemn  one,  it  is  also  a  simple 
one,  if  it  be  kept  close  to  the  word  of  God,  and  not  mixed 

3 


26  THEWORKOFTHESriRIT 

up  with  the  extravagant  or  extraneous  things,  which  the 
fancy  of  some,  and  tlie  philosophy  of  others,  have  heaped 
around  the  work  of  the  Holy  Spirit. 

Now,  one  thing  equally  simple  and  certain  is,  that  the 
office  of  the  Holy  Spirit  is  to  glorify  the  Saviour — to  ex- 
alt and  endear  him  in  our  estimation.  And  whatever  be 
the  nature  or  the  degree  of  the  Spirit's  operations  in  the 
mind,  the  design  of  them  is  to  render  Christ  "  precious"  to 
the  soul.  If,  therefore,  the  Saviour  is  become  altogether 
lovely  in  our  estimation,  and  his  atonement  altogether  dear 
to  us — dear,  because  of  its  glory,  fulness,  freeness,  and 
holy  influence — we  are  not  altogether  strangers  to  the  work 
of  the  Spirit.  Nor,  if  the  Saviour  is  all  and  all,  in  all  the 
iiope  we  cherish,  is  it  of  any  real  consequence  whether  or 
not  the  way  in  which  he  became  so  to  our  souls,  is  the  same 
by  which  others  have  been  led  to  love  him  and  rely  on  him. 
The  real  question  is  not,  How  was  1  brought  to  the  Saviour  ? 
but,  am  I  brought  to  him  for  pardon  and  sanctification  ? 
Some  have  been  brought  suddenly,  and  others  gradually,  to 
the  Cross  for  refuge  ;  some  have  been  driven  to  it  by  the 
terrors  of  the  law,  and  others  drawn  by  the  tenderness 
of  the  Lord  ;  some  were  brought  very  early  in  life,  and 
others  very  late  :  but  as  they  are  all  brought  to  rely  ou 
Christ  for  a  holy  salvation,  the  difference  of  the  time  and 
manner  of  bringing  them  does  not  affect  their  safety. 
Neither  the  time  nor  the  manner  of  bringing  sinners  to 
Christ,  but  their  bemg  brought  to  Christ,  is  the  cause  of 
their  salvation.  Paul's  conversion  was  sudden  and  mi- 
raculous ;  Timothy's  was  gradual,  and  the  effect  of  an 
early  religious  education  :  but  Timothy  was  as  safe  as 
Paul,  when  like  Paul,  he  laid  liold  on  Christ  for  eternal 
life.  And  if  the  heart  of  the  Philippian  jailer,  instead  of 
being  as  it  were  torn  open  by  terror,  had  been  "opened"  as 
the  heart  of  Lydia  was,  gently  as  a  rose-bud  is  unfolded 
by  the  sun,  the  jailer  would  have  found  the  same  welcome 
at  the  Cross  which  she  did.  In  like  manner,  had  Lydia 
been  plunged  into  despair,  as  he  was  at  first,  it  would  have 


ON    THE    HEART.  27 

availed  her  nothing,  if  she  had  not,  like  him,  fled  to  Christ. 
It  was,  therefore,  not  that  in  which  their  experience  dif- 
fered, but  that  in  which  it  agreed — their  reliance  on  Christ 
alone,  which  secured  their  welcome  and  safety.  Paul 
understood  this  ;  and,  accordingly,  he  did  not  reckon  Lydia 
nor  Timothy  less  truly  converted  to  God,  than  the  jailer  or 
himself ;  nor  did  they  themselves  doubt  their  own  conver- 
sion, because  the  manner  of  it  differed  from  his.  In  com- 
mon with  all  saints,  they  were  glorying  only  in  the  Cross 
of  Christ ;  and  as  they  knew  that  to  be  the  only  refuge, 
and  a  certain  refuge  to  all  who  fled  to  it,  they  kept  to  it 
without  any  reference  to  the  way  in  which  others  were 
brought  to  it. 

Now,  as  there  was  such  a  marked  and  immense  differ- 
ence in  the  manner  of  their  conversion,  similar  differences 
may  be  expected  still ;  and,  as  in  their  case,  without  at  all 
invalidating  the  reality  of  the  conversion  itself.  For,  in 
our  case  also,  the  real  question  of  experience  on  this  point 
is — Is  Christ  become  all  my  salvation  ?  and  not,  Have  I 
felt  all  the  alarm  and  horror  of  soid  which  some  have  ex- 
perienced 1  For,  if  I  have  felt  that,  whatever  it  was,  which 
has  led  me  to  commit  my  soul  to  Christ  for  salvation,  I 
could  have  done  nothing  more  than  this,  whatever  I  had 
felt.  They  have  done  nothing  more,  who  have  suffered 
most :  and  although,  of  course,  the  terrors  of  conscience 
led  them  to  commit  their  souls  into  the  hands  of  Christ 
with  more  promptness  and  solemnity  than  I  did  ;  still,  if  I 
did  it  with  sincerity,  my  welcome  was  equally  sure  ;  for, 
after  all,  it  is  the  sincerity  of  faith  in  Him,  and  not  the 
strength  of  feeling,  which  ensures  a  welcome  ;  and  what 
has  been  done  deliberately,  is  quite  as  likely  to  be  sincere 
as  what  is  done  under  alarm.  In  both  cases,  it  is  the  sin- 
cerity of  the  application  to  Christ,  which  constitutes  it  faith 
in  him. 

But  some  are  ready  to  say,  "  Alas  !  I  am  not  sure  that  I 
was  sincere  in  committing  my  soul  to  Christ  for  salvation." 
Now,  certainly,  if  you  are  not  sure  of  your  own  sincerit}^ 


28  THE     WORK     OFTHE     SPIRIT 

no  one  else  can  prove  it  to  you.  The  utmost  that  any  one 
can  do  to  help  you  on  this  point,  is  to  show  you  what  sin- 
cerity is  :  and  really  that  seems  unnecessary.  For  if  you 
did  not  intend  to  be  insincere  when  you  applied  to  the  Sav- 
iour, and  if  you  do  not  wish  to  be  insincere,  nor  design  to 
be  so,  why  should  you  suspect  your  sincerity  ?  No  one 
can  be  a  hypocrite,  or  a  pretender,  without  designing  to  be 
so :  and  therefore,  most  certainly  you  are  not  so,  if  you 
dislike  to  be  so. 

Thus  far  I  have  confined  your  attention  to  the  first  sa- 
ving result  of  the  work  of  the  Holy  Spirit  on  the  mind — 
which  is  to  render  the  Saviour  "  precious"  in  our  esteem. 
Lest,  however,  this  view  of  his  work  should  be  too  general 
let  us  examine  the  Saviour's  own  account  of  the  matter. 
Now,  when  he  gave  a  detailed  account  of  the  work  of  the 
Spirit,  he  said. 

First,  "  He  shall  convince  the  world  of  sin :  of  sin, 
because  they  believe  not  on  me."  Well,  what  do  you 
think  of  UNBELIEF  ?  what  is  your  opinion  of  it  ?  I  do  not 
mean,  of  its  abstract  nature  ;  nor  do  I  refer  to  infidelity,  or 
its  twin  "  wandering  star,"  Unitarianism  ;  but  to  the  practi- 
cal unbelief  which  we  manifested  whilst  we  were  careless 
or  heartless  in  religion.  Now,  what  do  you  think  of  the 
time  when  you  lived  as  if  there  had  been  no  Saviour,  or  as 
if  you  had  been  in  no  want  of  a  Saviour  ?  That  was  unbe- 
lief!  What  do  you  think  of  the  temper  Avhich  inclined 
you  to  care  nothing  about  an  interest  in  Christ,  and  kept 
you  from  considering  your  need  of  it  ?  That  was  unbelief! 
What  do  you  think  of  those  habits  and  pursuits  which  were 
allowed  to  banish  all  serious  concern  about  the  salvation 
of  your  soul  ?  What  is  your  present  opinion  and  feeling, 
in  regard  to  all  this  unbelieving  treatment  of  the  Saviour  ? 
Should  you  like  to  renew  it,  and  to  return  to  your  old  state 
of  mind  ?  No !  you  are  as  much  shocked  at  the  idea  of 
going  back  to  such  feelings  and  habits,  as  you  are  ashamed 
of  having  ever  felt  and  acted  such  a  part.  Your  long  and 
base  neglect  of  the  Lamb  of  God  pains  and  humbles  you 


ON    THE    HEART. 


29 


whenever  you  think  of  it; — it  was  so  unreasonable,  unwise, 
and  unkind !  You  both  wonder  and  weep  that  you  could 
have  lived  as  if  Emmanuel  had  never  died !  This  sin  sits 
heavier  at  times,  on  your  conscience,  than  any  other; 
and  makes  you  feel  and  confess  that  the  Saviour  might 
justly  reject  you. 

Well,  if  this  be  your  experience  on  the  subject  of  unbe- 
lief, what  is  all  this  but  conviction  of  the  "  sin"  of  unbelief; 
and  that,  too,  by  the  work  of  the  Holy  Spirit  ?  For  what 
else  could  have  brought  you  to  judge  and  feel  thus  ?  The 
seeds  of  these  proper  sentiments  and  feelings  were  not 
born  with  you :  they  must  therefore  have  been  sown  in 
your  hearts  ;  and,  as  the  hand  of  nature  never  contained 
them,  they  must  have  been  sown  by  the  hand  of  the  Spirit. 
For,  as  Satan  would  not  have  led  you  into  this  new  state 
of  mrnd,  and  as  the  world  could  not,  and  you  did  not  lead 
yourself  into  it,  it  must  be  from  God.  Yes,  from  God — 
however  unable  you  may  be  to  trace  its  connexion  with 
likely  means.  The  means,  whatever  they  were,  were  but 
means ;  and  have  not  produced  the  same  effect  upon  all 
who  were  under  the  same  means  as  yourself.  Besides,  if 
tliis  change  in  your  views  and  feelings  be  not,  at  least,  the 
beginning  of  a  Divine  change,  wliat  would  be  so  ?  It  is 
self-evident,  that  no  change  would  be  saving,  w^hich  did 
not  include  shame  and  sorrow  for  having  neglected  the  Sav- 
iour. Not  to  be  convinced  of  the  sin  of  unbelief,  would 
falsify  any  and  all  other  appearances  of  regeneration.  If, 
therefore,  you  have  experienced  that,  without  which  all 
other  experience  would  be  useless,  it  is  certain  that  you 
are  not  altogether  without  the  Spirit. 

Nor  is  this  all.  You  may  not  have  observed  it,  but,  on 
examination,  you  will  find  that  all  your  most  solid  and  sol- 
emn convictions  of  the  evil  and  demerit  of  sin  in  general, 
have  been  formed  or  confirmed  by  what  the  Spirit  has 
shown  you  of  the  Saviour.  For  it  is  with  the  disease  of 
the  soul,  as  with  some  of  the  diseases  of  the  body — it  is 
the  remedy  which  discovers  its  real  nature  and  extent.  A 
3* 


30  THEWORKOFTIIESPIRIT 

man  may  feel  rather  unwell,  and  yet  not  be  alarmed  by  his 
syinptoms  ;  but  if  a  judicious  physician  prescribe,  after  ex- 
amining them,  a  remedy  which  is  known  to  be  resorted  to 
only  in  desperate  cases,  it  is  the  remedy,  not  the  symptoms 
as  the  patient  judged  of  them,  that  opens  his  eyes  to  his 
danger.  He  thought  himself  ill  enough  to  require  some- 
thing ;  but  when  he  found  that  the  last  resource  of  medical 
skill  was  the  only  thing  which  could  save  his  life,  then  his 
disorder  appeared  to  him  in  a  new  light,  and  awoke  all  his 
fears.  Now,  so  it  is  with  the  soul :  it  is  the  remedy  for 
the  guilt  and  defilement  of  sin,  which  shows  the  evil  and 
danger  of  sin.  We  may  have  a  general  conviction  of  both, 
by  observing  how  God  abhors  sin,  and  threatens  to  punish 
it ;  and  we  may  see,  with  some  clearness  and  alarm,  that 
we  are  in  some  danger  from  our  sins ;  and  we  may  jfeel 
persuaded  that  it  is  necessary  to  try  something  to  prevent 
sin  from  being  our  ruin  :  but  it  is  not  until  we  see  that  "  the 
blood  of  Christ*^  is  the  only  remedy,  that  we  either  under- 
stand or  feel  aright  the  evil  of  sin.  It  is,  therefore,  chiefly 
and  emphatically  by  presenting  the  Lamb  slain  to  the  mind, 
that  the  Holy  Spirit  effectually  convinces  of  sin.  And  this 
is  conviction !  For,  what  a  sight  it  sives  us  of  our  case 
and  character !  Yes  ;  of  our  case,  even  if  our  character 
stand  high  by  comparison.  For,  as  there  is  only  one  Sav- 
iour, and  he  the  incarnate  Son  of  God  ;  and  only  07ie  way 
of  salvation,  and  it  by  faith  in  the  blood  of  that  Son  ;  what 
must  sin  be,  seeing  that  none  but  Emmanuel  could  atone 
for  it,  and  he  only  by  dying  for  it !  Whatever,  therefore, 
I  may  think  of  my  character,  my  case  is  this — as  a  sinner, 
there  is  nothing  between  mc  and  hell  but  the  blood  of 
Christ.  I  may  not  have  done  so  much  evil  as  some  ;  but 
as  there  is  no  pardon  for  any  sin  but  through  the  Cross,  I 
must  be  lost,  in  common  with  the  chief  of  sinners,  unless  I 
obtain  the  remission  of  my  sins  through  his  blood. 

This  solemn  considc^ration  sends  through  all  the  soul 
the  solemn  conviction,  that  sin  is  an  evil  which  we  neither 
understand  clearly  nor  feci  deeply,  until  wc  really  believe 


ONTHEHEART.  31 

the  divine  testimony  concerning  the  person  and  work  of 
Christ.  Whilst  we  did  not  believe  on  him,  that  we  might 
be  justified  by  him,  our  views  of  the  evil  and  danger  of  sin 
were  slight  and  partial ;  but  now  that  we  feel  that  we  must 
look  to  the  Lamb  slain  for  all  our  salvation,  or  perish  for 
ever,  we  cannot  think  lightly  of  sin.  Well,  what  is  this 
conviction  of  sin,  but  the  work  of  the  Holy  Spirit  in  the 
mind  ?  Yes  !  the  first  work  which  he  is  appointed  to  by  . 
the  constitution  of  the  covenant !  And  yet,  even  this  con- 
viction of  sin  some  are  discouraged  by,  and  actually  inter- 
pret it  into  a  token  of  Divine  anger,  although  it  be  in  itself 
a  token  of  Divine  love,  a  first-fruit  of  the  Spirit,  and  a  mark 
of  sdiVmg  faith  too  :  for  no  one  could  think  thus  of  sin,  who 
did  not  believe  Christ  to  he,  and  to  have  done  what  God 
testifies. 

But  I  will  not  hurry  on  this  conclusion  too  fast.  It  is 
desirable  to  meet  distinctly  the  case  of  those  who,  by  a 
strange  mistake,  imagine  that  their  anguish  of  soul,  on  ac- 
count of  sin,  is  inflicted  upon  them  in  anger,  and  arises  from 
God  having  left  them  to  sufter  the  consequences  of  sin. 
Some  have  even  regarded  this  anguish  as  a  foretaste  of 
hell  on  earth.  But  consider — was  it  in  anger  that  God  let 
loose  upon  the  Jews,  at  Pentecost,  all  the  stings  of  con- 
science, until  they  were  "cut  to  the  heart;"  literally  "sawn 
asunder  ?"  Was  it  intended  as  a  forerunner  of  "  the  worm 
that  dieth  not,"  when  the  arrows  of  the  Almighty  drank  up 
their  spirit  ?  No !  they,  perhaps,  thought  so  for  a  time, 
and  during  all  that  part  of  Peter's  sermon  which  was  like 
the  thunder,  the  earthquake,  and  the  whirlwind  at  Horeb  ; 
but  when  "  the  small  still  voice"  of  mercy,  through  the 
blood  of  the  Saviour  whom  they  had  murdered,  broke  like 
the  music  of  heaven  on  their  ears — then  they  saw,  that  God 
wounded  only  that  he  might  effectually  heal  them ;  and  cast 
them  down  that  he  might  lift  them  up,  for  ever.  Now,  why 
should  it  not  be  so  in  the  case  of  those  who  like  them,  have 
been,  as  it  were  "  sawn  asunder"  by  self-condemnation  ? 
You  are  not  guiltier  than  the  murderers  of  the  Lord  of  glory; 


32  THE    WORKOFTHE    SPIRIT 

and  therefore,  although  that  fact  gives  you  no  claim  upon  m«r- 
cy,  it  proves  that  your  guilt,  whatever  it  is,  is  not  beyond  the 
reach  of  mercy.  Indeed,  God  could  have  done  nothing 
better  for  you,  than  thus  to  convict  you  of  sin  :  for,  is  it 
not  an  answer  to  your  own  prayers  ?  You  have  prayed 
that  he  would  make  you  sensible  of  your  need  of  a  Sav- 
iour, and  empty  you  of  self-dependance :  and,  therefore, 
whatever  you  meant  by  this,  your  convictions  of  sin  form 
the  best  answer  to  your  supplications.  "  The  whole" 
know  not  "  their  need  of  a  physician ;"  and,  as  God  has 
made  you  to  feel  your  sickness,  the  fair  interpretation  is, 
that  he  desires  and  designs  to  heal  you.  Do  not,  therefore, 
recklessly  or  rashly  conclude  that  you  are  given  up,  be- 
cause you  are  thus  given  over,  for  a  time,  to  the  terrors  of 
the  law,  and  the  stings  of  conscience.  God  is  thus,  for 
any  thing  you  know  to  the  contrary,  bringing  you,  "through 
fire  and  water,  to  a  wealthy  place." 

Having  thus  seen  that  the  first  work  of  the  Spirit  is  to 
convince  of  sin,  and  that  the  experience  we  have  just  re- 
viewed is  conviction  of  sin  ;  let  us  now  observe  the  second 
part  of  the  work  of  the  Spirit,  and  examine  what  you  have 
felt  of  it.  "  He  shall  convince  of  righteousness,  because  I 
go  to  my  Father.''''  At  the  first  sight  of  these  words,  you 
may  be  ready  to  say,  "I  am  sure  that  I  have  experienced 
nothing  of  this  ;  for  I  do  not  know  even  what  it  means.''^ 
Perhaps  not ;  and  yet  you  may  be  familiar  with  the  senti- 
ment itself,  although  this  mode  of  expressing  it  be  mysteri- 
ous to  you.  In  fact,  you  must  not  be  startled  by  words : 
for,  as  you  have  only  begun  to  acquaint  yourself  with  the 
Scriptur(!S,  it  is  only  what  might  be  expected,  if  you  meet 
with  expressions  which  are  not,  at  once,  plain  to  you. 
They  are,  however,  quite  plain  to  those  who  have  consid- 
ered them  longer  ;  and  the  meaning  of  this  one  is  not  un- 
known to  you,  if  you  understand  any  thing  of  the  Gospel. 
Accordingly,  I  am  not  all  afraid  of  really  discouraging  or  per- 
plexing you,  when  I  affirm,  that  if  you  arc  not  convinced  of 
"  righteousness,"  you  "  have  not  the  Spirit  of  Christ  ;"  for, 


ONTHEHEART.  33 

are  you  not  fully  convinced  that  Christ  could  not  have  gone 
back  to  the  Father,  if  his  obedience  and  death  had  not 
wrought  out  and  brought  in  an  "  everlasting  righteousness  V 
You  are  persuaded  and  sure  that  God  would  not  have  raised 
him  from  the  dead,  nor  exalted  him  to  the  throne,  if  he  had 
failed  to  satisfy  law  or  justice.  You  therefore  regard  the 
resurrection  and  ascension  of  the  Saviour  as  proofs  of  the 
perfection  and  acceptance  of  his  atonement.  Accordingly, 
were  any  one  to  insinuate  that  he  had  not  magnified  the 
law  and  satisfied  the  justice  of  God,  you  would  appeal  with 
triumph  to  the  fact,  that  he  is  now  in  the  midst  of  the 
throne,  as  a  lamb  that  had  been  slain :  and  say,  that  he 
could  not  be  there,  if  he  had  not  "  finished"  his  mediatorial 
work  here.  Well,  this  is  the  real  and  full  meaning  of  the 
expression,  "  of  righteousness,  because  I  goto  my  Father." 
The  Saviour's  return  to  the  bosom  of  the  Father  demon- 
strates that  both  his  person  and  works  were  really  what  he 
had  declared  them  to  be,  divine  and  atoning.  Besides,  you 
are  persuaded  in  your  inmost  soul  that  nothing  but  the 
righteousness  of  Christ  can  justify  you  before  God;  and 
that  it  can  do  so :  and  accordingly  you  have  adopted  the 
sentiment  of  Paul,  and  "  count  all  things  but  loss,  that  you 
may  be  found  not  in  your  own  righteousness,  but  in  the 
righteousness"  of  Christ.  Well,  this  was  a  proof  in  Paul's 
case,  that  he  was  convinced  "  of  righteousness"  by  the 
Spirit :  why  then  should  not  a  similar  sentiment  prove  the 
same  fact  in  your  case  1  Paul  may  have  understood  it 
better,  and  felt  it  more  deeply,  than  you  do  at  present ;  but 
if  it  has  withdrawn  all  your  confidence  from  your  own 
righteousness,  and  convinced  you  that  nothing  can  save  you 
but  the  righteousness  of  Christ,  this  is  the  substance  of 
Paul's  experience  on  the  subject. 


34  THE    WITNESS 

No.  III. 
THE    WITNESS    OF    THE    SPIRIT. 

It  is  as  true,  that  if  any  man  have  the  Spirit  of  Christ, 
he  is  Christ's,  as  that  "  if  any  man  have  not  the  Spirit  of 
Christ  he  is  none  of  his  :"  "  for  as  many  as  are  led  by  the 
Spirit  of  Gofi,  they  are  the  sons  of  God  ;" — "  and  if  chil- 
dren then  heirs  ;  heirs  of  God,  and  joint  heirs  with  Christ." 
It  is  therefore  the  duty  of  all  who  have  been  "  led  by  the 
Spirit,"  to  believe  this  in  their  own  case,  because  they  are 
warranted  and  welcomed  to  do  so,  and  cannot  until  they 
believe  it  in  their  own  case,  experience  "  the  witness"  or 
"  the  seal"  of  the  Spirit.  Indeed  "  the  fruits  of  the  Spirit" 
will  be  both  few  and  imperfect  until  it  is  believed. 

Accordingly,  many  who  can  hardly  doubt  that  they  have 
experienced  something  of  the  work  of  the  Spirit  on  their 
minds,  are  afraid  to  regard  it  as  that  "  good  work"  which  he 
•will  "  carry  on ;"  because  they  do  not  feel  the  witness  of 
the  Spirit,  nor  the  joy  of  the  Holy  Ghost,  Hence  the 
question  which  they  put  to  themselves  so  often — "  How  can 
I  think  that  what  I  have  experienced  is  the  saving  work  of 
the  Spirit,  seeing  that  I  feel  nothing  of  the  witness,  the 
seal,  or  the  earnest  of  the  Spirit  ?  The  fruit  of  the  Spirit 
is  joy  and  peace,  as  well  as  '  temperance  and  goodness  ;' 
and  as  I  have  no  joy,  and  but  little  peace,  it  is  not  likely 
that  all  the  change  which  I  have  undergone  is  merely  the 
effect  of  the  common  operations  of  the  Spirit,  instead  of 
being  the  effects  of  his  special  influences  ?"  Thus  many 
of  the  truly  serious  argue  in  their  own  case. 

In  order  to  clear  up  this  matter,  the  first  thing  to  be 
settled,  is,  evidently,  whether  the  change  of  views,  feelings, 
and  habits,  which  you  have  experienced,  is  a  divine  change. 
Now  it  must  be  either  divine  or  human.  But  if  you,  as  a 
eelf-condeinned  and  perishing  sinner,  are  looking  to  Christ 
alone  for  a  holy  salvation  ;  if  you  are  willing  and  desirous 


OFTHESPIRIT.  35 

to  be  an  entire  and  eternal  debtor  to  Him,  and  to  be  made 
like  Him  in  heart  and  character,  this  change  from  your 
fonner  state  of  mind  cannot  be  a  human  change,  because 
no  human  means  could  produce  it.  Nothing  human  ever 
brought  any  soul  to  feel  that  there  was  nothing  between  it 
and  perishing,  but  the  blood  of  Christ.  All  the  tendencies 
of  nature  are  against  this  conviction.  Wherever,  therefore, 
it  is  the  conviction  of  the  mind,  it  is  the  special  v/ork  of 
the  Holy  Spirit.  Now,  if  this  be  the  change  of  mind 
which  you  have  undergone,  it  is,  unquestionably,  a  divine 
change  ;  and,  as  unquestionably,  it  is  your  duty  to  believe  it 
to  be  so.  You  may  say,  "  I  am  afraid  to  conclude  that  I  have 
been  led  by  the  Spirit :"  but  if  you  are  come  to  the  word 
of  God  for  counsel — to  the  mercy-seat  for  grace — and  to 
the  Cross  for  all  your  salvation  from  sin  and  hell,  none  but 
the  Holy  Spirit  could  have  led  you  there.  Those  are  the 
grand  points  to  which  he  leads  all  whom  he  quickens. 
This  is  the  very  way  in  which  he  glorifies  the  Saviour. 
Settle  it,  therefore,  in  your  minds,  from  this  moment,  that 
your  reliance  on  the  Lamb  slain  for  a  holy  salvation,  is 
absolute  proof  of  having  been  "  led"  by  the  Holy  Spirit. 
Or,  if  you  still  hesitate  to  admit  this  in  your  own  case,  do 
ask  yourself,  and  fairly  answer  the  question,  Would  any 
thing  be  proof  without  these  sentiments  and  feelings  ?  Do 
you  not  see  that  nothing  would  amount  to  a  saving  change, 
if  this  holy  reliance  on  the  Saviour  were  not  in  it  1  It  is 
evidently  the  chief  thing  in  regeneration. 

Now,  if  you  can  neither  deny  nor  doubt  that  you  have 
been  thus  led  by  the  Spirit  of  God,  from  the  love  of  sin  to 
the  love  of  salvation,  it  is  your  immediate  duty,  as  well  as 
privilege,  to  believe  that  you  are  Christ's,  and  a  child  of 
God  by  Jesus  Christ.  But  here  again  you  fly  off  from  the 
scriptural  conclusion  in  your  own  case,  and  say,  "  I  do  not 
feel  myself  to  be  a  child  of  God."  But,  consider ;  how 
can  you  feel  yourself  to  be  so,  while  you  do  not  believe  that 
you  are  so  1  It  is  irrational  to  expect  that  you  could  feel 
what  you  disbelieve.     The  feeling  of  sonship  must  spring 


36  THE     WITNESS 

from  the  belief  of  your  ovvn  s-onship.  No  man  can  have 
the  Spirit  of  adoption,  so  as  to  be  fully  aware  of  having  it, 
until  he  believe  that  he  is  adopted.  Accordingly,  it  is  be- 
cause believers  are  sons,  that  God  sends  forth  the  Spirit  of 
his  Son  into  their  hearts,  "  crying,  Abba,  Father."  This 
seal  of  the  Spirit,  like  the  pentecostal  gifts  of  the  Spirit, 
may  not  be  given  at  once  :  it  may  be  delayed  much  longer 
than  the  full  inspiration  of  the  Apostles  was  ;  but  the  Spirit 
of  adoption  will  be  sent  forth,  and,  whenever  it  is  sof"-it  will 
be  by  enabling  believers  to  believe  that  they  "  are'-^ll  the 
children  of  God  by  faith  in  Christ  Jesus." 

You  may  not  have  observed  hitherto,  that  this  is  the 
scriptural  way  of  leading  believers  into  the  glorious  liberty 
of  the  sons  of  God.  Indeed,  many  seem  to  look  for  it  in 
another  way,  and  to  expect  something  like  a  revelation  of 
their  own  adoption  and  sonship.  They  do  not  see,  from 
the  Scriptures,  that  they  are  the  children  of  God  by  faith ; 
and,  therefore,  they  take  for  granted  that  their  knowledge  of 
their  own  sonship  must  come  from  another  quarter — even 
from  tKc  direct  witness  of  the  Spirit  with  their  spirits,  that 
they  ar^  born  of  God.  Accordingly,  for  this  direct  witness, 
they  are  praying,  and  waiting,  and  hoping.  Thus  many 
have  been  judging  and  acting  for  years.  They  know  that 
until  they  are  the  children  of  God,  they  are  not  "  heirs  of 
God,"  nor  "joint  heirs  with  Christ;"  and  as  might  be 
expected,  they  are  often  cast  down  because  they  obtain  no 
clear  sense  of  their  own  sonship.  The  witness  which  they 
look  for,  and  pray  for,  docs  not  come  ;  and  therefore  they 
imagine  that  it  is  withheld  in  sovereignty,  or  kept  back 
until  they  shall  acquire  more  of  the  marks  of  adoption. 
And,  as  they  see  in  themselves  many  causes  why  God 
should  not  answer  their  prayers  for  the  witness  of  the 
Spirit,  they  try  to  be  content  without  it  for  a  lime. 

Now  it  is  no  mistake,  that  the  Holy  Spirit  will  not  witness 
to  the  sonship  of  any  child  of  God,  who  is  living  in  the  in- 
dulgence of  any  known  sin  ;  it  is  no  mistake  that  the  wit- 
ness of  the  Spirit  is  only  given  in  answer  to  prayer ;  it  is 


OFTHESPIRIT.  37 

no    mistake  that  there    is   a  direct  witness  of  the  Spirit. 
"  These  are  the  true  sayijigs  of  God  .'" 

But  still  there  is  a  mistake  ;  and  it  lies  in  supposing  that 
the  direct  witness  of  the  Spirit  is  something  different  from 
the  direct  witness  of  the  Word.  It  is  also  a  mistake  to 
suppose,  that  the  Holy  Spirit  either  will  or  can  witness  to 
our  sonship,  before  our  own  spirit  witness  to  our  having 
really  believed  on  Christ  for  salvation.  Neither  the  Spirit 
of  God,  nor  the  Word  of  God,  bears  any  witness  to  our 
adoption,  until  our  own  spirit  is  conscious  of  faith  in  Christ. 

It  is  by  leaving  the  question  of  personal  faith  unsettled, 
that  so  many  both  miss  and  mistake  the  witness  of  the 
Spirit.  They  allow  it  to  remain  doubtful  to  themselves,  or 
are  afraid  to  decide,  whether  their  own  believing  in  Christ 
is  saving  faith  or  not.  They  Avish  it  to  be  so — pray  that  it 
may  be  so — and  cherish  a  faint  hope  that  it  may  prove  to 
be  so  in  the  end  ;  but  at  present,  they  do  not  venture  to 
regard  their  own  believing  as  real  faith.  Their  own  spirit 
does  not  bear  them  witness  that  it  is  so. 

Now,  while  this  continues  to  be  the  case,  they  must 
search  their  own  hearts  in  vain  for  that  witness,  or  for  the 
peculiar  fruits  of  the  Spirit ;  for  these  are  peculiar  to 
believers.  Uuiil,  therefore,  your  own  spirit  witness  that 
you  are  a  believer,  the  Spirit  of  God  will  not,  cannot  wit- 
ness that  you  are  a  child  of  God  ;  you  must  not,  therefore, 
shrink  from  going  fully  into  the  question  of  your  own  faith. 

It  is,  indeed,  a  solemn  one,  and  not  easily  settled,  owing 
to  the  many  controversies  which  exist  on  the  subject  of 
faith  ;  but  still  it  may  be  settled,  and  therefore  it  should  not 
be  left  unsettled,  especially  as  you  can  make  no  progress 
tovfards  joy  or  peace  until  you  know  yourself  to  be  a 
believer  in  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ.  Let  us,  therefore,  go 
into  the  question  calmly  and  seriously. 

Now  your  own  spirit,  although  it  does  not  bear  you  wit- 
ness that  you  are  really  a  believer,  witnesses  something  on 
the  subject  of  salvation  by  the  blood  of  Christ.  It  bears 
you  witness  that  you  are  no  longer  indifierent  about  this 

VOL.  I. — 4 


38 


THE     WITiNESS 


way  of  salvation,  nor  seeking  to  be  saved  in  any  other  way. 
It  is  even  the  persuasion  of  your  spirit  that  there  is  no 
other  way.  You  feel  also  in  your  inmost  soul,  that  unless 
you  obtain  an  interest  in  Christ,  you  must  perish  ;  and  what- 
ever you  may  think  of  his  willingness  to  save  you,  your  whole 
spirit  is  fully  persuaded  that  Jesus  is  able  to  save  you.  So 
far  your  own  spirit  witnesses  without  hesitation  or  reserve. 
Well ;  so  far  you  are  evidently  not  an  unbeliever.  All  this 
is  not  all  the  truth  concerning  either  the  person  or  the  work 
of  Christ ;  but  it  is  some  of  it.  It  is,  at  least,  the  hearty 
belief  of  this  part  of  the  Gospel — that  there  is  no  other 
name  given  under  heaven,  whereby  we  can  be  saved,  but 
the  name  of  Jesus.  It  is  also  the  hearty  belief,  that  Jesus 
is  able  to  save  unto  the  uttermost,  all  that  come  unto  him. 
It  is  also  the  hearty  belief,  that  by  the  works  of  the  law,  no 
flesh  living  can  be  justified.  All  these  things  are  the  living 
and  settled  convictions  of  your  mind,  as  well  as  the  express 
words  of  God  ;  and,  knowing  that  you  did  not  always 
believe  these  things  fully,  you  are  almost  persuaded  that 
your  strong  conviction  of  their  truth  is  from  the  work  of 
the  Holy  Spirit  on  the  mind. 

You  do,  then,  accede  to  all  this,  as  being  the  witness  of 
your  own  spirit  ?  Well ;  that  witness  is  proof  that,  thus 
far,  you  are  not  an  unbeliever.  Let  this,  then,  be  a  settled 
point.  And  now,  carry  the  inquiry  farther  into  the  witness 
of  your  own  spirit.  Does  your  mind  or  conscience  charge 
you  with  disbelieving  any  part  of  the  divine  testimony  con- 
cerning the  pcr.son  or  the  work  of  Christ  ?  The  substance 
of  that  testimony  is,  that  Christ  is  God  manifested  in  the 
flesh,  as  a  sacrifice  for  sin.  Now,  if  you  disbelieve  this, 
it  is  a  matter  of  no  consequence  what  else  you  believe.  It 
is  not,  however,  disbelief  of  it,  to  be  unable  to  comprehend 
it  fully.  It  is  the  great  mystery  of  godliness,  and  thertifore 
faith  has  to  do  with  the  fact,  not  with  the  nature  of  the 
union  of  divinity  and  hiunanity,  in  the  person  of  the 
Saviour.  What,  then,  is  the  witness  of  your  spirit  to  this 
fact ;   if  vou  are   conscious   that  vou   believe    it,    on   the 


0  F    T  H  E     S  P  I  R  I  T.  39 

authority  of  God,  to  be  the  fact,  thus  far  also  you  are  evidently 
not  an  unbeliever ;  for  what  more  could  you,  or  indeed  any 
one,  do  with  it,  than  to  believe  it  to  be  the  truth  of  God? 
Perhaps  you  are  ready  to  say,  that  you  never  doubted  the 
divinity  or  the  atonement  of  the  Saviour  ;  and  that,  as  you 
believe  no  more  now  than  what  you  did  while  you  w^ere  care- 
less, you  cannot  reckon  your  present  believing  real  faith. 
Well ;  what  do  you  reckon  it  ?  Unbelief  1  It  certainly 
is  not  that,  if  words  have  any  meaning.  It  may  be  weak 
faith,  but  it  cannot  be  unbelief,  if  it  embrace  the  truths 
■which  you  say  it  does.  And  as  to  your  having  believed 
whil'3  careless,  all  that  you  do  now,  it  is  unreasonable  and 
unwise  to  think  so  for  a  moment.  It  was  not  believing  with 
the  heart,  nor  the  purpose  for  which  the  Son  of  God  be- 
came incarnate,  and  was  crucified  ;  and  therefore  it  was 
the  w^orst  kind  of  unbelief.  AVhereas,  if  you  now  rest  all 
your  hope  of  salvation  upon  the  atonement,  because  you 
believe  that  the  diAdnity  of  Christ  rendered  his  death  a 
glorious  atonement ;  this  is  faith.  Words  have  no  meaning, 
if  this  be  not  faith.  You  might  as  well  call  light  darkness, 
as  consider  this  unbelief.  You  are  not  an  unbeliever,  if 
your  spirit  bear  you  witness  that  you  embrace  wdiatever 
God  has  testified  concerning  the  person  and  work  of  his  Son. 
You  are  now,  if  you  regard  this  grand  point  as  settled  in 
your  own  case,  in  the  direct  way  to  obtain  the  witness  of 
the  Spirit  to  your  own  adoption.  And  the  first  thing  you 
want  in  order  to  this  is,  to  be  enabled  to  see  and  believe  the 
connexion  there  is  between  faith  in  Christ,  and  your  being 
a  child  of  God.  Now,  faith  and  sonship  are  inseparably 
connected  in  the  word  of  God.  Hence  the  express  declara- 
tion concerning  Christ  and  believers  :  "  Unto  as  many  as 
received  him,  gave  he  power  to  become  the  sons  of  God ; 
even  to  them  that  believe  on  his  name  :"  that  is,  they  are 
empowered,  or  warranted,  to  regard  themselves  as  the  chil- 
.dren  of  God.  Accordingly,  when  Paul  found  the  Galatian 
believers  doubting,  or  misunderstanding  this  warrant,  he  said, 
"  Ye  are  all  the  children  of  God,  by  faith  in  Christ  Jesus." 


40  THE     WITNESS 

Now,  it  is  to  the  truth  of  this  gracious  connexion  between 
faith  and  sonship,  that  the  Holy  Spirit  witnesses  ;  and  the 
chief  part  of  his  witness  is,  to  show  that  it  is  true  in  our 
own  case.  Indeed,  the  whole  of  his  witness  consists  in 
filling,  affecting,  and  influencing  our  spirit  with  the  sweet 
per?".asion,  that  it  is  "the  truth  of  God,"  that  we  are 
warranted  to  believe  ourselves  the  children  of  God,  because 
all  our  faith  is  in  the  Son  of  God.  This  persuasion  may 
vary,  from  time  to  time,  in  its  fulness,  clearness,  and 
sweetness  ;  but,  even  when  strongest,  its  true  glorj'-  is,  that 
it  is  true  that  we  are  the  children  of  God  by  faith.  The 
witness  of  the  Spirit  is  not,  therefore,  diflerent  from  what 
the  word  of  God  witnesses  on  this  point ;  but  the  same. 
He  shows  nothing  to  our  spirit  but  just  what  God  has 
said  in  the  Scriptures,  and  bears  nothing  in  on  the 
mind  but  just  what  is  "  written."  His  witness  comes, 
indeed,  with  a  power  and  glory  at  times,  which  makes  the 
written  truth  appear  newly  revealed  truth,  or  something 
which  the  believer  had  never  heard,  read,  or  thought  of 
before  !  The  new  force  given  to  the  old  truth  is  sometimes 
such,  that  even  wise  and  good  men  have  almost  forgotten, 
at  the  moment,  the  Avord  of  God,  and  thought  only  of  the 
direct  witness  of  the  Spirit  with  their  spirits.  And,  in 
such  cases,  there  was  a  direct  witness  :  all  the  melting, 
cheering,  and  holy  influence  of  the  Word  on  their  minds 
was  the  efli^ct  of  divine  influence;  but  still  it  was  divine 
influence,  working  by  the  divine  word,  or  the  Spirit  sliow- 
ing  clearly  and  powerfully  what  had  been  overlooked  or 
misunderstood  before.  No  new  truth,  but  the  glory  of  the 
old,  was  brought  home  with  demonstration  and  power  ;  for 
even  when  the  witness  of  the  Holy  Spirit  goes  farthest  in 
sweetness  and  glory,  it  does  not  go  one  hair's-breadth 
beyond,  or  away  from,  what  is  already  revealed  in  the 
Holy  Scriptures. 

And  it  is  self-evident  tliat  nothing  more  can  be  wanted, 
either  for  comfort  or  establishment.  What  mor.'  could  you 
wish,  than  to  know  lliat  you  arc,  what  you  desire  to  be — a 


OF     THE     SPIRIT.  4J 

child  of  God  ?  If,  therefore,  that  be  already  revealed  in 
the  Scriptures,  the  first  thing  you  really  need,  in  this  mat- 
ter, is  an  increase  of  faith  to  believe  the  fact.  Now,  it  is 
expressly  revealed,  that  "  As  many  as  are  led  by  the  Spir- 
it of  God,  they  are  the  sons  of  God ;"  and  that  as  many  as 
"  receive"  Christ,  or  believe  on  him,  are  empowered  to  be- 
lieve also  that  they  are  "become  the  sons  of  God."  When- 
ever, therefore,  you  understand  and  believe  this,  in  your 
own  case,  you  will  have  the  witness  of  the  Spirit ;  for  this 
is  the  truth  of  God  ;  and  it  is  to  "  the  truth,"  that  the  Spir- 
it witnesses.  "  But,"  you  are  ready  to  say,  "  if  the  son- 
ship  or  adoption  of  believers  is  revealed  already  in  the 
Scriptures,  what  need  is  there  for  another  witness  to  it  ? 
If  I  can  learn,  from  the  Word  of  God,  that  I  am  a  child  6{ 
God,  is  not  the  witness  of  the  Spirit  unnecessary  ?"  Now, 
/  in  your  case,  it  is  evidently  very  necessary  ;  for  you  have 
not  learned,  hitherto,  that  your  "  faith  hath  saved  you." 
You  hardly  believe  this  now.  You  are,  perhaps,  not  yet 
sure  that  your  believing  on  Christ  is  saving  faith.  There 
is  still  a  mist  around  the  whole  subject,  as  regards  your- 
self. It  is,  indeed,  breaking  upon  you,  and  brightening  up 
here  and  there  ;  but  you  are  almost  as  much  afraid  of  the 
light  as  you  are  of  the  darkness.  How  can  you,  then,  sus- 
pect that  the  testimony  of  the  Word  should  set  aside  the 
witness  of  the  Spirit  ?  You  have  often  heard  and  read  the 
written  testimony  of  God,  that  believers  are  all  his  children 
by  faith  ;  but  hitherto,  you  have  not  ventured  to  believe  this 
fact  in  your  OAvn  case,  and  can  hardly  venture  to  do  so  now. 
It  is,  therefore,  self-evident  that  instead  of  doing  away  with, 
or  lessening  the  need  of  the  Spirit's  witness,  the  necessity 
of  it  is  demonstrated  by  the  very  difficulty  which  you  feel 
in  trying  to  believe  this  part  of  the  Gospel  for  yourself. 
Never,  perhaps,  did  you  feel  more  deeply  than  at  this  mo- 
ment, your  own  need  of  being  led  by  the  Spirit  unto  all 
truth. 

"  True,"  you  say,  "  but  surely  the  witness  of  the  Spirit 
is  something  more  spiritual  than  all  this :  I  have  always 
4* 


42  T  H  E    W  1  T  N  E  S  S 

thought  that  it  consisted  in  a  peculiar  divine  impression  on 
the  mind,  or  a  peculiar  manifestation  to  the  soul."  Well, 
is  it  not  a  divine  impression,  and  manifestation  too,  when 
the  mind  feels  persuaded  of  the  worth  and  all-sufficiency  of 
the  SaA'iour  ;  and  of  the  trutli  of  the  great  scriptural  fact, 
that  salvation  is  by  faith  alone,  that  it  may  be  of  grace  en- 
tirely ?  The  natural  impression  is,  that  salvation  is  by 
works  alone,  or  by  the  fruits  of  faith,  rather  than  by  faith 
itself.  If,  therefore,  you  think  lightly  of  feeling  persuaded 
that  you  must  be  saved  by  faith,  or  perish,  you  underrate 
the  value  of  your  own  convictions  :  for  this  conviction,  if 
connected  with  love  to  holiness,  is  the  best  part  and  proof 
of  the  work  of  the  Holy  Spirit  on  your  mind ;  and,  in  fact, 
is  the  beginning  of  his  witness  too. 

But  still  you  are  not  satisfied  on  this  point :  but  feel  al- 
jnost  sure  that  the  witness  of  the  Spirit  must  be  a  more  pe- 
culiar impression,  or  manifestation,  than  grace  to  believe  all 
the  truth.  Well :  an  impression  of  what  ?  A  manifesta- 
tion of  li'hat  ?  There  is  nothing  to  impress  or  manifest  but 
revealed  truth ;  and  as  that  is  revealed  which  you  want  to 
know,  the  only  thing  you  require,  in  order  to  enjoy  the 
comfort  of  it,  is  grace  to  understand  and  believe  it  for  your- 
self. For  do  you  not  see  that  any  impression  of  what  is 
not  revealed  could  never  be  relied  on,  l)ecause  it  could  never 
be  proved  to  be  a  divine  impression  ?  The  manifestation 
of  any  thing  to  the  soul,  different  from,  or  additional  to,  the 
Word  of  God,  could,  indeed,  come  only  from  a  wicked 
spirit.  It  is,  tlieroforc,  evidently  wrong  to  look  for  any  di- 
vine witness,  but  what  the  Spirit  of  God  bears  to  tlie  truth 
of  the  divine  word,  and  its  correspondent  influence  on  our 
hearts  and  habits. 


OFTHESPIRIT.  43 

No.  IV. 
THE     SPECIAL     FRUITS     OF     THE     SPIRIT. 

"  The  fruit  of  the  Spirit  is  in  all  goodness.^'  It  does  not, 
however,  follow  from  this,  that  all  goodness  is  "the  fruit  of 
the  Spirit."  All  real  goodness  of  heart  and  character  is  so, 
of  course  ;  but  there  is  much  apparent  and  comparative 
goodness,  which  is  merely  the  fruit  of  education  and  self- 
righteousness.  Hence  the  importance  of  distinguishing  be- 
tween the  fruits  of  the  Spirit  and  the  fruits  of  nature  ;  for 
these,  like  some  of  the  fruits  of  the  earth,  are  occasionally 
similar  in  appearance,  whilst,  in  reality,  they  are  as  differ- 
ent as  food  and  poison.  Comparatively,  there  are  many 
who  are  good  neighbours,  good  parents,  and  good  children: 
but  their  goodness,  in  these  social  relations,  flows  from  no 
love  to  God,  nor  from  any  regard  to  the  Holy  Spirit.  Ac- 
cordingly, they  do  not  pretend  to  be  influenced  by  the  Spi- 
rit or  Word  of  God  in  the  goodness  which  they  cultivate  ; 
it  is  merely  their  way — their  rule — their  family  system  of 
acting.  This  is  both  the  history  and  mystery  of  all  their 
comparative  goodness. 

Now,  whatever  such  goodness  be,  it  certainly  is  not  re- 
ligion ;  for  God  is  not  made  its  author  nor  its  end.  It  is 
not  derived  from  his  grace,  nor  directed  to  his  glory ;  and, 
therefore,  cannot  be  satisfactory  to  him,  however  beneficial 
it  may  be  to  society.  No  wonder  :  we  ourselves  would  not 
be  satisfied  with  any  goodness  in  our  children,  if  it  were 
unconnected  with  love  to  ourselves  as  their  parents.  Did 
they  neglect,  avoid,  and  forget  us,  we  should  regard  them 
as  had  children,  however  good  they  were  to  others,  and  in 
other  respects.  And  nothing  ought  to  be  held  real  goodness 
in  a  child,  when  filial  love  and  gratitude  are  wanting. 
Much  more,  therefore,  may  God,  so  far  as  it  regards  him- 
self, disown  all  moral  goodness,  which  begins,  and  goes  on, 
without  either  love  or  gratitude  to  himself. 

Nor  is  this  all.     There  is  also  a  kind  of  love  and  grati- 


44  THE     SPECIAL     FRUITS 

tude  to  God,  which  does  not  mend  the  matter  very  much.  I 
mean  when  they  refer  to  Him  chiefly  as  the  God  of  provi- 
dence. Many  mistake  for  religious  principle,  the  pleasure 
they  feel  in  their  worldly  lot.  They  have  succeeded  in 
business  beyond  their  own  expectations,  and  better  than 
many  who  had  more  to  begin  with.  Providence  has  smiled 
on  their  industry,  and  kept  watch  and  ward  over  their  in- 
terests. Accordingly,  they  see,  and  feel,  and  confess,  that 
God  has  been  very  good  to  them.  On  this  ground,  they  feel 
it  to  be  their  duty  to  cultivate  some  goodness,  and  to  do 
some  good,  in  grateful  retiurn  for  the  divine  goodness  to 
themselves.  Now,  perhaps,  no  natural  goodness  approaches 
so  near  to  "  the  fruit  of  the  Spirit"  as  this.  It  is  amiable, 
considerate,  and  highly  consistent  with  a  sense  of  moral  ob- 
ligation. But,  after  all,  it  is  often  no  better  than  self- 
righteousness,  and  sometimes  it  is  mere  ostentation  ;  and 
even  when  it  is  none  of  these,  it  may  not  be  the  fruit  of  the 
Spirit.  Accordingly,  many  who  go  all  this  length  in  good- 
ness, do  not  even  pretend  that  they  are  in  the  least  influenced 
by  the  Holy  Spirit  in  any  good  they  do.  The  utmost  they 
say  or  think  is,  "  We  bless  God  that  we  have  a  heart  to  do 
what  little  good  we  can  in  the  world."  Here  the  matter 
begins  and  ends.  They  have  no  heart  for  prayer ;  no  deep 
sense  of  their  lost  condition  as  sinners  ;  no  clear  under- 
standing of  the  way  of  salvation  by  the  blood  of  Christ ;  no 
settled  persuasion  of  their  own  need  of  "  a  new  heart ;" 
and,  therefore,  neither  their  general  goodness  nor  gratitude 
is  "  the  fruit  of  the  Spirit."  For  the  first  fruits  of  the  Spir- 
it are  convictions  of  sin  and  righteousness  ;  or,  the  drawing 
away  of  the  soul  from  sin  and  sclf-depcndance,  to  take  up 
with  the  cross  and  holiness.  Accordingly,  where  there  is 
no  solicitude  to  be  saved  by  the  blood  of  the  Lamb,  there  is 
none  of  that  morality  which  is  the  fruit  of  the  Spirit. 

The  truth  of  these  distinctions  is  both  illnstralcd  and  con- 
firmed by  the  order  in  which  the  fruits  of  the  Spirit  are 
class(;d  in  the  Word  of  God.  "  Love,  joy,  peace,"  are 
placed  first  in  the  catalogue  ;  and  the  moral  virtues  next. 


OFTHESPIRIT.  45 

Not  that  "  long-suffering,  gentleness,  goodness,  fidelity, 
meekness,  temperance,"  are  less  the  fruit  of  the  Spirit  than 
"  love,  joy,  peace  ;"  nor  because  they  are  less  necessary  ; 
but  because  the  moral  virtues  may  be  imitated  without  the 
Spirit,  whereas  the  spiritual  graces  cannot.  Any  man  may 
force  himself  to  be  temperate  ;  but  no  man  can  force  him- 
self to  love  God  or  the  Lamb.  A  man  may  be  constitution- 
ally meek  and  gentle  ;  but  no  man  loves  God,  nor  rejoices 
in  God,  nor  has  peace  w4th  God,  naturally.  Accordingly, 
many  of  the  truly  serious,  who  are  cultivating  all  the  moral 
virtues,  and  who  excel  in  some  of  them,  regard  themselves 
as  almost  strangers  to  both  the  work  and  witness  of  the 
Spirit,  because  they  feel  so  little  love,  joy,  or  peace,  in  be- 
lieving. They  see,  in  the  case  of  the  primitive  believers, 
that  faith  wrought  by  love,  and  produced  joy  and  peace  ;  and 
as  their  own  believing  does  not  work  in  this  way,  they  dare 
not  regard  it  as  that  faith  which  is  from  the  operation  of  the 
Holy  Ghost.  This,  however,  is  a  grand  mistake,  if  all 
their  reliance  is  on  Christ  for  a  holy  salvation.  That  is, 
"  the  faith  of  God's  elect ;"  and  the  only  reason  why  it  does 
not  lead  to  "  love,  joy,  peace,"  is,  that  such  persons  do  not 
understand  that  their  "  faith  hath  saved  them ;"  for  if  they 
understood  and  believed  that  it  had  saved  them,  they  could 
not  be  long  strangers  to  love,  joy,  or  peace.  And  even  as 
it  is  with  them,  they  are  not  utter  strangers,  nor  so  much 
strangers  to  these  fruits  of  the  Spirit  as  they  themselves 
suspect  and  say. 

I  appeal  to  you  who  have  applied  to  Christ  for  a  holy 
salvation,  and  are  relying  on  him  alone  for  eternal  life  :  you 
say,  that  you  feel  little  or  no  love  to  God  and  the  Lamb.  Do 
you  mean  by  that,  that  you  feel  more  hatred  than  love  to 
them  1  No :  you  are  not  conscious  of  any  hatred  to  them. 
The  bare  idea  of  such  a  thing  shocks  you.  Well,  is  there 
no  love  in  this  feeling  1  You  are  ready  to  say — "  the  ab- 
sence of  all  hatred  does  not  imply  love  ;  we  hate  no  one, 
but  we  do  not  love  all  alike."  True,  you  have  not  the 
same  reason  for  loving  all  alike  ;  and  therefore  you  have  no 


46  T  H  E     SP  E  C  I A  L    F  R  D  I  T  S 

desire  to  do  so  :  but  you  really  love  all  whom  you  desire  to 
love.  Now,  if  you  really  desire  to  love  God  and  the  Lamb, 
it  is  certain  that  you  are  not  even  indifferent  to  them,  far 
less  hostile  to  them.  There  is  not  an  utter  want  of  love, 
where  there  is  a  wish  to  love.  Love  is,  indeed,  weak  when 
it  consists  chiefly  in  wishes  ;  but  even  then  it  is  not  pre- 
tence nor  fancy.  And  if  the  weakness  of  it  be  the  cause  of 
shame  and  sorrow  to  you,  the  love  itself,  although  certainly 
feeble,  is  not  insincere. 

Are  you  then  satisfied,  in  your  own  mind,  that  it  is  really 
your  desire  to  love  God  and  the  Saviour  supremely  ?  Well, 
love  to  them  must  have  a  beginning,  as  well  as  every  other 
gracious  feeling.  None  of  the  graces  of  the  Spirit,  nor,  in- 
deed of  the  gifts  of  nature,  spring  to  maturity  at  once. 
The  desire  to  love  God  should,  therefore,  be  welcomed  and 
well  treated  in  the  heart :  for  it  is  from  that  seed  that  all 
love  to  him  springs,  and  Avithout  which  none  ever  will  or 
can  spring  up  in  the  heart.  Besides,  are  you  not  conscious 
of  loving  God  and  the  Saviour,  and  their  "commandments," 
more  than  you  once  did  ?  And  would  you  not  think  it  a 
very  great  change  for  the  wurse,  were  you  to  relapse  to 
your  former  state  of  mind  ?  Would  you  not  even  suffer  a 
good  deal,  rather  than  go  back  to  your  old  sins  and  insen- 
sibility ?  Weigh  these  questions  seriously,  and  answer 
them  fairly.  I  would  not  flatter  you,  nor  teach  you  to 
think  too  highly  of  "  the  day  of  small  things  :"  but  as  it  is 
evidently  a  day  of  something  gracious  in  your  case.  I  must 
guard  you  against  despising  it.  Now,  it  will  never  do  any 
good,  but  real  evil,  to  go  on  for  ever  questioning  the  since- 
rity of  your  love  ;  for  until  you  admit  that  it  is  not  insincere, 
it  cannot  increase  in  strength  nor  in  warmth.  It  is  well,  it 
is  necessary,  to  exercise  a  keen  jealousy  over  our  best  feel- 
ings ;  but  if  they  are  treated  with  nothing  but  jealousy  and 
suspicion,  they  certainly  will  not  grow  better.  Faith  and 
love  must  be  "  watered,"  as  well  as  watched ;  cherished, 
as  well  as  tried  : — for  if  you  got  into  the  habit  of  trying  them 
as  hypocrites, or  only  to  Cmd  fault  with  them,  you  will  never 


OFTHESPIRIT.  47 

be  able  to  come  to  any  satisfactory  conclusion,  nor  to  suc- 
ceed in  improving  them. 

Besides  the  kind  and  degree  of  love  which  you  want  to 
feel,  you  never  can  feel  until  you  believe  that  God  and  the 
Lamb  have  loved  and  do  love  you.  It  is  your  doubt  of  their 
love  to  you  that  keeps  down  your  love  to  them.  This  is 
the  real  secret  of  all  the  coldness  and  weakness  you  com- 
plain of;  unless,  indeed,  some  sin  has  still  the  throne  of 
your  heart.  Then,  indeed,  the  Holy  Ghost  will  not  shed 
abroad  the  love  of  God  in  your  heart.  But  if  this  be  not 
the  case,  what  you  want,  in  order  to  love  God  more,  is  to 
be  enabled  to  believe  that  God  has  loved  you.  Now,  why 
not  believe  this  ?  You  are  warranted  and  welcome  to  be- 
lieve this  for  yourself,  if  all  your  faith  is  in  Christ  for  a 
holy  salvation.  And,  whatever  you  may  think,  you  never 
can  know  that  God  has  loved  you,  or  that  Christ  "  gave 
himself"  for  you,  but  by  believing  it.  You  may  have  ima- 
gined, hitherto,  that  the  sense  or  assurance  of  this,  must 
be  borne  in  upon  the  mind  in  some  mysterious  or  superna- 
tural manner ;  but  if  by  that,  you  mean  in  some  way  apart 
from  believing  what  God  has  said,  you  mistake  greatly. 
You  must  just  take  God's  word  for  it,  if  ever  you  would  be 
sure  that  he  has  loved  you.  Well,  you  have  his  word  for 
it : — "  The  Father  himself  loveth  you^''  saith  Christ,  "  he- 
cause  ye  have  loved  me ;"  and  you  have  loved  Him,  if  you 
have  committed  your  souls  to  him  for  salvation,  and  are 
willing  to  obey  him. 

Now,  do  you  not  see,  at  a  glance,  that  the  moment  the 
soul  admits  the  sweet  persuasion  of  God's  love  to  itself,  it 
is  impossible  not  to  love  him  ?  Try  it  in  your  own  case,  if 
it  be  merely  as  an  experiment.  Suppose  that  a  voice,  di- 
rect from  heaven,  assured  you  that  God  had  "  loved  you 
with  an  everlasting  love,"  and  that,  therefore,  "  with  loving- 
kindness  he  had  drawn  you"  to  the  Cross  and  the  mercy- 
seat  ; — could  you  hear  this  assurance  without  a  glowing 
heart  1  Would  not  all  your  affections  warm,  and  melt,  and 
flow  out  to  God  1     You  feel  at  once  that  such  knowledge  of 


48 


THE     SPECIAL     FIIUITS 


his  love  to  you,  would  secure  and  inflame  your  love  to  him 
forever!  Well;  if  you  are  sure  that  you  are  a  believer, 
you  have  this  assurance  iu  your  Bible  :  and,  therefore,  it  is 
just  as  true,  as  if  a  voice,  direct  from  the  heaven  of  heav- 
ens, were  to  inform  you.  Why  not  believe  it,  then  ?  This 
was  the  apostolic  way  of  growing  in  love.  "  We  love  Him, 
because  he  first  loved  us."  How  did  they  know  that  God 
had  loved  them  ?  They  knew  that  they  had  "  believed 
through  grace,"  and  that  God  loved  all  such  ;  and,  therefore, 
they  said,  "  we  have  known  and  believed  the  love  where- 
with God  hath  loved  us." 

Now,  as  to  the  second  special  fruit  of  the  Spirit — "  Joy ;" 
hov\  ever  you  may  have  complained,  hitherto,  that  you  had 
no  joy  in  believing ;  and  however  you  may  have  wondered 
that  your  application  to  the  Saviour  was  not  followed  by 
"  the  joy  of  salvation  ;"  the  cause  is  obvious.  It  is  not  be- 
cause the  Spirit  has  been  sovereignly  withheld  from  you ; 
nor  that  joy  does  not  I'ollow  from  believing  now,  "  as  in  the 
days  of  old  ;"  but,  evidently  and  certainly,  because  you 
have,  hitherto,  believed  only  one  half  of  the  Gospel.  But 
whilst  the  belief  of  that  half  is  enough  for  safety,  the  be- 
lief of  the  other  also  is  requisite  in  order  to  "  joy." 

Consider  this.  The  first  and  chief  part  of  the  Gospel  is 
God's  testimony  concerning  the  person  and  work  of  his 
Son.  With  the  belief  of  this  testimony,  he  has  graciously 
and  inseparably  connected  the  promise  of  eternal  life. 
Hence  arises  a  second  divine  testimony  ;  and  it  is  concern- 
ing all  who  have  believed  tlie  first  with  the  heart.  Now, 
that  second  testimony,  which  is  thus  concerning  them,  is, 
that  they  "  have  eternal  life  ;"  that  they  "  are  the  children  of 
God  ;"  that  they  "  are  justified  ;"  in  a  word,  that  they  have 
obtained  the  mercy  and  favour  they  were  seeking!  Now, 
the  moment  they  believe  that  they  are  actual  heirs  of  the 
salvation  they  were  believing  in  Christ  for,  joy  must  come 
into  their  hearts  ;  ind(;ed  it  cannot  be  kept  out ;  for  it  is  im- 
possible that  any  man  can  be  joyless,  who  believes  tliat  all 
his  sins  are  pardoned,  and  Ms  soul  redeemed,  by  the  blood 


OFTHESPIRIT.         ^  49 

of  Christ.  This,  then,  is  that  half  of  the  gospel  which  you 
have  either  not  observed  before,  or  not  ventured  to  believe 
in  your  own  case.  The  consequence  has  been,  that  all  the 
joy  you  had  from  looking  to  the  Saviour,  has  been  damped 
and  kept  down  by  the  chilling  suspicion,  that  he  might  not 
save  you.  Sometimes  you  have  got  above  this  fear  for  a 
moment,  and  seen  so  much  of  his  grace  and  glory,  that  you 
could  not  doubt  his  willingness  to  save  even  you.  You 
have,  then,  clasped  the  dear  hope  to  your  heart,  and  resolv- 
ed that  you  would  cling  to  it  through  life.  But  how  often 
have  you  lost  your  hold  of  it !  It  has  gone,  you  know  not 
how.  Why  ?  If  the  neglect  of  known  duty,  or  the  indul- 
gence of  known  sin,  has  not  been  the  cause  of  its  with- 
drawment,  the  cause  is  obvious  : — you  did  not  see  that  this 
fond  hope  of  salvation  was  fully  warranted,  and  chartered 
to  you,  by  the  express  word  of  God.  You  took  up  the 
hope  at  first,  not  so  much  because  you  felt  warranted  and 
welcome,  by  that,  to  do  so  ;  but  because  you  were  willing  to 
do  so,  and  could  not  be  happy  without  it.  Accordingly, 
whenever  you  asked  yourself  the  question,  "  what  right 
have  I  to  hope  for  so  great  a  salvation  ?" — you  could  not 
answer  it  to  your  own  satisfaction.  You  looked  at  your- 
self— and  felt  that  you  had  no  claim  !  You  looked  at 
others — and  felt  afraid  to  hope.  But  you  did  not  look  to 
the  things  that  are  "  written"  unto  them  "  that  believe  on 
the  name  of  the  son  of  God,"  that  they  "  might  kxow" 
that  they  "  have  eternal  life."  Had  you  looked  at  them, 
your  joy  might  have  been  "  full."  Let  it  be  so  now  ;  for 
"  it  is  written,"  that  whosoever  believeth  shall  never  perish, 
but  have  everlasting  life  ;  and  you  do  believe,  if  you  love 
the  Gospel. 

All  this,  I  am  aware,  is  easily  said.  I  feel,  with  you, 
that  it  is  easier  to  advise  than  to  act  here.  Paul  evidently 
felt  this,  when  he  said  to  believers,  "  Rejoice  in  the  Lord  ; 
and  again  I  say,  rejoice."  This  repetition  of  the  injunc- 
tion, implies  that,  like  ourselves,  they  did  not  understand  at 
first,  or  they  forgot  at  times,  the  warrant  which  faith  has,  in 

VOL.    I. — 5 


50  THESPECIALFRUITS 

the  divine  Word,  to  "rejoice  always."  It  v/as,  however, a 
mistake,  when  believers  were  afraid  to  rejoice  in  the  Lord : 
for  except  when  they  become  remiss,  or  irregular,  they  are 
always  warranted  to  cherish  the  joy  of  salvation,  as  the 
strength  of  their  heart. 

In  like  manner  "  Peace"  whilst  it  is  the  fruit  of  the  Spi- 
rit, is  also  the  effect  of  faith.  It  is  not  a  feeling  of  tran- 
quillity infused  into  the  mind  or  the  conscience,  apart  from 
"  the  truth  ;"  but  by  the  truth.  The  Word  of  God  is  "  the 
seed"  of  that  peace  which  is  the  fruit  of  the  Spirit.  By 
overlooking  this  fact,  and  by  mistaking  the  real  nature  of 
spiritual  peace,  many  perplex  and  sadly  hinder  themselves 
in  the  divine  life.  Indeed,  they  often  look  for  a  kind  of 
peace  which  is  not  promised,  and  expect  it  in  a  way  which 
is  not  revealed.  What  do  you  mean  when  you  pray  for 
peace  ?  What  would  you  consider  as  an  answer  to  this 
prayer?  If  you  mean  by  peace,  that  sweet  serenity  of 
soul  which  you  have  felt  when  you  have  obtained  great  en- 
largement of  heart  in  secret  devotion,  or  when  you  have 
been,  as  it  were,  carried  "  out  of  the  body"  by  some  glorious 
sermon,  full  of  the  glory  of  the  Saviour ;  you  mistake  the 
matter.  This  is,  indeed,  peace  ;  even  "  the  peace  of  God, 
which  passeth  understanding  ;"  but  it  is  that  degree  of  it, 
which  is  more  the  reward  of  extraordinary  devotional  hab- 
its, than  the  effect  of  ordinary  faith.  Tastes  of  such  holy 
tranquillity  arc  vouchsafed,  at  times,  to  some,  when  they 
begin  to  follow  the  Lamb,  that  they  may  be  encouraged  to 
follow  him  fully,  and  convinced  that  his  ways  are  peace ; 
but  still,  it  is  his  own  peace  which*  he  has  left  to  his  fol- 
lowers, as  their  ordinary  portion.  "Peace  I  leave  unto 
you :   My  peace  give  I  unto  you." 

This  was  a  distinction  peculiarly  wanted  by  the  first  dis- 
ciples. They  were  naturally  sanguine  in  their  expecta- 
tions, and  prone  to  picture  to  themselves  bright  (hiys  and 
great  things.  Had,  therefore,  the  Saviour  said  nothing  but 
"  Peace  I  leave  unto  you,"  the  probability  is,  that  they 
would  have  flattered  themselves  with  a  sunny  prospect  of 


OFTHESPIRIT.  51 

ease  and  tranquillity.  How  great,  then,  must  have  been 
their  disappointment  when  they  had  to  endure  "  fears  with- 
out, and  fightings  within !"  In  that  case,  they  might  have 
said,  "  We  looked  for  peace,  and,  behold,  war."  All  this 
was,  however,  prevented  by  the  qualifying  clause,  "  My 
peace  give  I  unto  you."  This  defined  the  legacy,  without 
lessening  its  real  value  :  for  the  Saviour's  own  peace,  al- 
though it  did  not  exempt  him  from  trials,  nor  from  the  tempt- 
ations of  Satan,  nor  even  from  the  occasional  hidings  of 
the  Divine  presence  from  his  soul ;  yet  it  secured  both  his 
safety  and  triumph  under  them  all.  Accordingly,  that  kind 
and  degree  of  peace  his  Apostles  found  during  their  work 
and  warfare. 

Now  this  distinction  we  have  need  to  notice  and  remem- 
ber ;  for  we  too  are  prone  to  expect  what  is  not  promised. 
It  would  quite  suit  our  taste  and  wishes  to  have  no  cares, 
trials,  or  temptations.  We  should  be  delighted  if  we  were 
never  to  have  an  uneasy  nor  an  unholy  thought  in  our  minds 
again.  To  have  our  hearts,  like  Gabriel's  harp,  always  in 
tune,  would  be,  indeed,  heaven  on  earth,  and  the  very  thing 
we  desire  !  But  all  this  is  the  poetry,  not  the  sober  reality, 
of  religion.  It  is  not  to  be  angels,  but  to  be  "  saints"  on 
the  earth,  that  we  are  called  by  God.  "  A  life  of  faith  on 
the  Son  of  God,"  is  a  life  of  warfare  against  the  lusts  of 
the  flesh  and  of  the  mind ;  a  life  of  watching  against  un- 
belief and  temptation  ;  a  life  of  obedience  and  submission 
to  the  will  of  God  :  and  the  peace  which  is  the  fruit  of  the 
Spirit,  is  the  persuasion  that  God  is  on  our  side,  and  will 
not  suffer  us  to  be  overcome.  This  was  the  Saviour's  own 
peace,  when  his  heart  was  broken  with  reproach,  and  his 
body  agonized  with  pain,  and  his  soul  torn  with  anguish : 
and  we  deceive  ourselves,  if  we  mean  by  peace,  exemption 
from  trouble  of  mind  or  body.  Such  peace  is  not  promised. 
The  substance  of  what  is  promised  is,  "  My  grace  is  stiffi- 
cient  for  thee.^'' 

Now  many  who,  in  their  own  vague  or  visionary  sense  of 
the  word,  say  that  they  havenoj^eace  in  believing,  are  cer- 


52  JUSTIFICATION    BY    FAITH. 

tainly  not  strangers  to  this  kind  and  degree  of  peace  :  for 
they  evidently  bear  their  trials  well,  and  resist  temptation 
manfully,  because  they  believe  that  God  has  some  gracious 
design  in  all  that  he  calls  them  to  do  or  suffer. 


No.  V. 

JUSTIFICATION    BY    FAITH. 

Until  this  subject  is  understood,  it  is  impossible  for  any 
one,  however  serious  or  devotional,  to  enjoy  the  witness,  or 
to  abound  in  the  fruit,  of  the  Holy  Spirit.     Now,  it  is  either 
not  clearly  understood,  or  not  fully  believed,  in  every  case 
of  fear  which  is  not  relieved  by  it.     The  fear  of  perishing  is 
utterly  incompatible  with  an  intelligent  belief  of  the  scrip- 
tural fact,  that  "  he  w^ho  believeth"  on  Christ  "  is  justified'^ 
unless  indeed,  the  person  who  is  in  fear,  is  also  conscious 
that  he  has  not  faith  in  the  Saviour.     In  thnt  case,  the  doc- 
trine of  justification  by  faith  cannot,  of  course,  remove  his 
fears  ;  but  must,  if  he  understand  it,  increase,  instead  of 
lessen  them.     Those,  however,  who  are   persuaded  that 
they  have  faith  in  the  Saviour  and  some  love  to  him,  but 
who  are  still  afraid  that  they  are  not  justified  by  his  right- 
eousness, are  certainly  labouring  under  some  mistake  ;  for 
his  righteousness  is  "  vpon  all  them  that  believe."     It  is, 
therefore,  "  upon  themselves,  as  a  robe  of  salvation,  if  they 
are  believers ;  and  they  are  believers  who  rely  upon  and 
love  Jesus  Christ  for  his  holy  salvation.     Those  who  do 
so,  because  they  are  persuaded  of  the  truth  of  his  divinity 
and  atonement,  cannot  be  unbdinvers,  whatever  they  may 
suspect  or  think.     'I'his  state  of  mind  is  utterly  unlike  un- 
belief.    It  is  the  very  reverse  of  it  in  fact.     It  is  faith,  if 
it  be  any  thing ;  for  faith  is  the   cordial  belief  of  "  the 
truth"  concerning  tlio  person  and  work  of  Christ.     Indeed, 
if  it  were  not,  then  it  would  follow  that  faith  is  the  belief 


JDSTIFICATIONBY    FAITH.  53 

of  conjectures ;  for  unless  conjectures,  there  is  nothing  but 
"  the  truth"  to  beheve  ;  and  surely  guesses^  however  plausi- 
ble, should  never  be  preferred  to  the  Word  of  God,  nor 
even  connected  virith  it.  Besides,  there  is  no  need  for  any, 
seeing  God  has  graciously  £ind  inseparably  connected  with 
the  belief  of  "  the  truth  as  it  is  in  Jesus,"  the  promise  of 
justification  and  eternal  life.  All  things  necessary  for  life 
and  godliness  are  promised  to  all  who  embrace  the  divine 
testimony  with  an  honest  heart.  Whoever,  therefore,  does 
so,  has  no  need  to  perplex  himself  with  conjectures  about 
his  own  adoption,  redemption,  or  election.  He  has  been 
elected,  redeemed  and  adopted,  if  he  has  "  believed  through 
grace,"  and  for  holy  purposes,  "  the  glorious  Gospel  of  the 
blessed  God."  All  who  "  hold  the  truth"  (except,  indeed, 
those  who  "  hold  it  in  unrighteousness")  have  no  occasion 
at  all  to  doubt  whether  the  Saviour  died  for  them.  He  both 
loved  them,  and  gave  himself /br  them,  who  receive  the 
truth  in  the  love  of  it.  These  are  "  true  sayings'*  of  the 
true  God  ;  and  therefore,  the  only  thing  wanted  in  order  to 
enjoy  the  comfort  of  them,  is  to  be  enabled  to  believe  them 
for  ourselves.  This,  indeed,  the  Holy  Spirit  will  not  ena- 
ble us  to  do,  if  we  are  either  indulging  sin,  or  neglecting 
duty,  or  seeking  a  sanction  for  inconsistencies  ;  but  where 
this  is  not  the  case,  the  Spirit  will  not  refuse  nor  delay  to 
increase  our  faith,  if  we  try  to  grow  in  knowledge,  that  Ave 
may  grow  in  grace.  For  reluctance  to  "  lead  into  all  truth" 
is  no  part  of  his  character.  He  is  a  "  free  Spirit,"  and 
therefore,  although  he  teach  gradually,  he  will  teach  cer- 
tainly, and  "  to  profit." 

When  there  is,  however,  perplexity  on  the  subject  of 
Justification  by  Faith,  the  best  thing  that  can  be  done  is,  to 
examine  the  subject  as  if  we  had  never  heard  of  it  before. 
And  we  ought  to  feel  no  reluctance  to  do  so.  Let  us  ex- 
amine it  now. 

"  How  can  man  he  justified  with  God .''" — This  solemn 
question  was  put  by  Bildad  to  Job ;  and  although  Job's  an- 
swer was  not  explicit  at  the  moment,  his  opinion  on  the 
5* 


54  JUSTIFICATIONBYFAITH. 

subject  may  be  inferred  from  the  fact,  that  he  had  said  be- 
fore, "  If  I  justify  myself,  mine  own  mouth  shall  condeimi 
me."  Paul,  however,  has  given  a  direct  and  full  answer  to 
this  momentous  question,  by  stating  explicitly  how  he  him- 
self, and  his  fellow  converts,  sought  to  be  justified. — "  We 
have  believed  in  Jesus  Christ,  that  we  might  he  justified  hy 
the  faith  of  Christ,  and  not  hy  the  works  of  the  law''  Gal. 
ii.  16.  In  this  way,  whatever  it  mean,  Paul  and  his  asso- 
ciates sought  for  justification  before  God.  And  whatever 
justification  is,  they  found  it  by  this  means.  Accordingly 
he  said,  "  Being  now  justified  by  his  blood,  we  shall  be 
saved  from  wrath  through  him."  And  again,  "  being  justi- 
fied by  faith,  we  have  peace  with  God  through  our  Lord 
Jesus  Christ."  Thus  clearly  does  the  Apostle  declare  both 
the  means  which  he  employed,  and  his  success  in  using 
them.  He  took  God's  way,  and  God  gave  him  his  own 
Avish.  Although  the  chief  of  sinners,  God  justified  Paul, 
when  he  believed  on  Christ  for  righteousness.  Not,  in- 
deed, that  God  justified  Paul's  conduct  or  principles  as  a 
sinner.  No !  for  if  "  he  that  justifieth  the  wicked  is  an 
abomination  to  the  Lord,"  it  is  self-evident  that,  in  the  sense 
of  thiidving  or  declaring  Paul  innocent,  the  Lord  himself 
did  not,  and  could  not,  justify  him.  God  forgiveth  "  iniquity, 
transgression,  and  sin  ;"  but,  in  doing  so,  "  he  will  by  no 
means  clear  the  guilty"  from  the  charge  of  having  been 
guilty.  He  treats  sinners  as  kindly  as  if  they  were  inno- 
cent, or  as  if  they  had  never  been  sinners,  when  they  re- 
turn from  sin  to  the  Saviour  ;  but  he  neither  considers 
them  innocent,  nor  palliates  their  guilt.  He  forgives,  and 
even  forgets,  all  the  sins  of  all  who  believe  ;  but  he  allows 
no  believer  to  forget  that  he  was  a  sinner,  nor  to  suppose 
that  his  sins  were  not  hateful  and  hated  by  Him.  It  is, 
therefore,  because  believing  sinners  are  accepted  for  the 
sake  of  Christ,  as  if  they  were  not  sinners,  that  they  arc 
said  to  be  justified  by  God. 

The  scriptural  doctrine  of  Justification  by  Faith,  is, — 
that  the  f^aviour  was  treated  as  if  he  had  been  guilty,  ii\ 


JDSTIFICATIONBYFAITH.  55 

order  that  the  guilty,  who  believed  in  Him,  might  be  ac- 
cepted as  if  they  were  innocent.  This  is  what  Paul  means 
when  he  says  of  Christ,  "  He  was  made  sin  for  us,  that  we 
might  be  made  the  righteousness  of  God  in  him."  The 
Saviour  had  no  sin,  he  "knew  no  sin,"  yet  it  pleased  the 
Lord  to  bruise  him.  Why  ?  Emmanuel  had  voluntarily, 
cheerfully,  and  fully,  put  himself  in  the  room  of  sinners  ; 
and  therefore  he  was  treated  as  if  their  sins  had  been  his 
own,  so  far  as  the  punishment  of  them  went.  He  had  to 
bear  the  curse  as  fully  as  if  he  had  personally  incurred  it. 
And  just  because  he  did  so,  the  blessing  is  as  freely  given 
to  them  who  believe,  as  if  they  personally  deserved  it ;  for 
what  the  Saviour  deserves  for  his  obedience  and  death, 
that  the  sinner  obtains  by  relying  on  him  for  a  holy  salvation. 
This  is  the  justification  revealed  and  promised  in  the 
Gospel.  This  is  the  justification  which  Paul  sought  and 
found  by  believing;  he  was  welcomed,  accepted,  and 
blessed  by  God  at  the  Cross,  as  if  he  had  never  sinned ; 
because  on  that  cross  the  Lamb  of  God  made  his  soul  an 
offering  for  sin.  And  what  ?nore  could  a  sinner  wish,  than 
to  be  received  with  as  much  tenderness  as  if  he  were  inno- 
cent ?  Innocence  secures  the  fulness  of  the  Divine  love 
and  favour.  The  angels  are  innocent,  and  therefore  are 
the  sons  of  God,  radiant  with  his  glory,  and  replenished 
with  his  own  blessedness  for  ever.  And  yet-: — Gabriel 
when  he  tunes  his  harp,  and  prostrates  his  crown  before 
the  eternal  throne ;  and  seraphim,  when  they  cover  their 
faces  with  their  wings,  in  adoration  of  God  and  the  Lamb, 
are  not  more  welcome  than  a  sinner  returning  to  God  by 
the  blood  of  the  Lamb  is  !  He,  indeed,  is  not  innocent ; 
but,  for  the  sake  of  that  blood  on  which  he  relies,  he  is  re- 
ceived as  graciously  and  loved  as  freely,  as  admiring  cher- 
ubim or  adoring  seraphim  are.  Accordingly,  Paul,  when 
speaking  of  "  the  principalities  and  powers  in  heavenly 
places,"  as  studying  the  manifold  wisdom  of  God,  adds,  "  In 
Christ  we  {we  in  common  with  them)  have  boldness  and  ac- 
cess with  confidence,  by  the  faith  of  Him." 


56  JUSTIFICATION     BY     FAITH. 

It  is  no  valid  objection  against  this  simple  view  of  justifi- 
cation, that  God  visits  the  transgressions  of  believers  "  with 
the  rod,"  and  their  iniquity  "  with  stripes."  In  this  re- 
spect, indeed,  they  are  not  treated  as  innocent ;  but,  what 
is  far  better  for  them,  "  God  dealeth"  with  them  "  as  with 
sons."  "  For  what  son  is  he  whom  the  Father  chasteneth 
not  ?  Whom  the  Lord  loveth  he  chasteneth,  and  scour- 
geth  every  son  whom  he  receiveth."  Only  the  really  inno- 
cent can  be  exempted  from  all  suffering.  Believers  are, 
however,  treated  as  righteous,  so  far  as  it  is  good  for  them 
to  be  so. 

They  are  adopted  into  the  family  of  God,  and  made  heirs 
of  eternal  life,  as  freely  and  fully  as  if  they  were  personally 
righteous  or  wholly  innocent :  and  if  they  are  made  to  feel 
their  sinfulness  by  theif  pardon,  and  are  only  acquitted  as 
those  who  are  justly  condemned ;  this  method  of  showing 
mercy  does  not  lessen  the  value  of  the  boon,  but,  indeed, 
enhances  it,  and  sustains  the  honour  of  the  Law  and  the 
Gospel  at  the  same  time.  For  it  would  not  be  good  for  us 
to  be  pardoned  so,  that  our  guilt  should  seem  palliated ;  nor 
to  escape  from  the  curse  so,  that  we  should  not  feel  that  we 
had  been  under  it.  Such  a  way  of  saving  sinners  would 
be  as  injurious  to  their  own  spiritual  interests,  as  it  would 
be  dishonourable  to  God.  Accordingly,  it  is  not  God's  way 
in  justifying  the  ungodly  who  believe  in  Jesus :  he  wel- 
comes them  as  if  they  were  godly,  but  makes  them  to  feel 
and  confess  that  thoy  arc  ungodly.  Thus,  even  the  ahound- 
ings  of  Divine  grace  towards  sinners  are  "  in  all  wisdom 
and  pnidence  ;"  for  whilst  they  remove  the  sting  and  stain 
of  guilt  from  the  conscience,  they  increase,  rather  than 
lessen,  the  sense  of  the  evil  of  sin,  in  every  conscience 
which  is  purged  by  the  blood  of  Christ  from  "  dead  works," 
i.  c,  from  works  which  deserve  death. 

Here,  then,  is  the  justification  which  all  sinners  need, 
and  which  awaits  every  sinner  who,  like  Paul,  will  believe 
in  Christ,  that  he  may  be  justified  by  the  faith  of  Christ: 
God  will  accept  him  as  righteous,  for  the  sake  of  the  righte- 


JUSTIFICATION     BY     FAITH.  57 

ousness  of  Christ,  and  treat  him  for  ever  as  one  reconciled 
by  the  blood  of  the  cross.  Like  the  father  of  the  returned 
prodigal,  God  will  rejoice  over  him,  and  receive  him  into 
complete  sonship.  Having  thus  seen  what  justification 
really  is,  you  now  see. 

First,  How  the  Gospel  suits  your  case  as  a  sinner.  It 
assures  you  that,  by  believing  on  Christ,  God  will  welcome 
and  accept  you  as  fully  as  if  you  had  never  sinned.  Now 
this  is  exactly  what  you  want  and  wish.  You  do  not  wish 
to  be  treated  as  He  treats  the  innocent  angels,  except  so  far 
as  that  is  necessary  to  the  safety  of  your  soul.  Accordingly, 
you  do  not  object  to  those  fatherly  chastisements  which  the 
children  of  God  have  to  endure.  What  you  desire  is,  to  be  a 
child  of  God.  Well ;  there  is  ample  provision  in  the  Gospel 
for  making  you  what  you  thus  wish  to  be ;  for  in  coming  to  God 
by  Christ,  he  will  treat  youfor  Christ's  sake,  as  if  you  were 
righteous.  Now,  it  is  because  you  are  not  righteous,  but 
sinful  and  unholy,  that  you  are  afraid.  All  your  fear  arises 
from  your  aggravated  guilt  and  utter  unworthiness.  You 
cannot  forget  what  you  have  been,  nor  overlook  what  you 
are,  as  a  sinner  before  God.  Well ;  you  ought  not  to  for- 
get nor  overlook  it.  It  is,  however,  a  mercy  to  feel  sen- 
sible of  it,  and  humbled  for  it  ?  But  now  tell  me,  how  would 
you  feel  if  you  were  as  innocent  as  a  holy  angel  1  Sup- 
pose that  you  had  never  sinned  in  thought,  word,  or  deed, 
would  you  be  afraid  then  ?  Would  you,  in  that  case,  doubt 
whether  God  would  admit  you  into  his  favour  and  king- 
dom ?  No  ,  "  the  righteous  Lord  loveth  righteousness  ;" 
and  therefore  you  would  feel  confident,  if  you  were  per- 
fectly righteous,  that  you  would  meet  with  no  refusal  from 
God.  You  could  calculate  to  a  certainty  then,  upon  eternal 
happiness  !  So  you  might ;  for  God  can  as  soon  cease  to 
live  as  refuse  to  love  the  innocent.  "  But  what  is  all  this 
to  the  point,"  you  say,  "  seeing  I  am  not  only  not  innocent, 
but  very  guilty  and  depraved  too  ?"  True  ;  but  if  there  is 
a  righteousness  so  meritorious,  that,  for  the  sake  of  it,  God 
can  and  will  treat  you  as  if  you  were  not  guilty,  this  would 


58  JUSTIFICATION     EY    FAITH.    WU^, 

answer  the  same  purpose  as  perfect  innocence  on  your  own 
part.  Do  you  not  see  that  ?  You  are,  indeed,  utterly  un- 
worthy ;  but  the  Saviour  is  infinitely  worthy ;  if,  therefore, 
you  can  have  all  the  benefit  of  his  worthiness  placed  to  your 
own  account,  you  will  be  as  safe  as  if  you  had  never  sinned. 
Now  this  is  just  what  God  does  for  sinners,  when  they  ap- 
ply to  Christ  for  all  their  salvation :  he  places  to  their  ac- 
count the  righteousness  of  Christ,  so  that  he  welcomes 
them  as  if  it  were  all  their  own. 

Now  this  is  the  provision  made  for  the  justification  of  the 
ungodly  who  will  believe  in  Christ ;  and,  most  certainly,  it 
fully  meets  your  case  as  a  sinner,  however  guilty  you  may 
be ;  for  your  utter  unworthiness  cannot  exceed  the  worthi- 
ness of  the  Lamb  slain.  ."  True,"  you  say,  "  the  righteous- 
ness of  Christ  is  enough  to  justify  me,  or  any  sinner  ;  but 
the  question  is,  will  God  impute  that  righteousness  to  me  1 
will  he  give  me  the  benefit  of  it  ?"  This  question  implies 
a  doubt,  if  not  a  fear,  that  he  may  refuse  to  do  so  in  your 
case.  I  therefore  ask  at  once — Whiy  do  you  fear  that 
God  will  refuse  to  justify  you  for  the  sake  of  Christ  ?  Has 
he  any  where  said  that  he  will  not  ?  Is  it  his  custom  to  re- 
fuse those  who  are  willing  to  submit  to  the  righteousness  of 
Christ  ?  Has  he  ever  sent  away  a7ii/  one  soul  unclothed 
with  that  robe,  who  sought  it  in  good  earnest  ?  No  !  AW 
history,  all  heaven  says,  No  !  And  were  all  hell  compelled 
to  answer  these  questions,  it  would  say.  No !  Why,  then, 
are  ijou  afraid  of  a  refusal  ?  There  is  nothing  in  the  whole, 
or  in  any  part,  of  the  character  of  God,  which  renders  it 
necessary  that  he  should  reject  you  ;  for,  by  the  righteous- 
ness of  Christ,  he  can  be  perfectly  just  in  justifying  any 
one  who  believes  :  and,  as  his  justice  is  thus  on  your  side, 
it  is  self-evident  that  none  of  his  other  perfections  can  be 
against  you.  In  like  manner,  there  is  nothing  in  the  char- 
acter of  the  Saviour  which  renders  your  ejection  necessary 
or  likely.  The  robe  of  his  righteousness  is  wide  enough  to 
embrace,  and  large  enougli  to  cover,  your  soul ;  and  he  is 
not  less   willing  now  to  enfold  sinners  in  it,  than  when  he 


JUSTIFICATION    BY     FAITH.      '  59 

threw  it  around  the  chief  of  sinners.  For,  as  his  righteous- 
ness is  "  upon"  all  them  who  do  believe,  so  it  is  free  unto 
all  who  will  believe,  on  him  for  justification.  Now,  really, 
if  these  facts  do  not  fully  meet  your  case,  as  a  sinner,  it 
must  be  a  very  peculiar  case,  and  its  peculiarity  must  be 
imaginary^  not  actual ;  unless,  indeed,  you  are  still  uncer- 
tain whether  you  are  a  believer  or  not. 

But  now,  even  if  you  have  not  yet,  like  Paul,  believed  in 
Christ,  "  that"  you  "  might  be  justified  ;"  still,  something  is 
gained  by  this  inquiry,  if  you  now  understand  what  justifi- 
cation is,  and  see  the  possihility  of  your  own  justification. 
Are  you  then  convinced  that  God  could  be  just  even  in  jus- 
tifying you  by  faith  ?  Is  the  way  of  acceptance  through  the 
merits  of  Christ  plain  to  you,  in  all  things  but  upon  the 
point  of  believing  1  Could  you  now  venture  to  hope  freely, 
if  you  were  sure  that  your  believing  is  faith  ?  Well ;  we 
are,  then,  in  a  fair  way  to  bring  this  matter  to  a  favourable 
issue.  And  it  will  facilitate  this,  to  mark  distinctly  what 
Paul  believed  in  Christ  for. 

Now  he  says,  that  he  believed  that  he  might  be  justified. 
His  own  justification  was,  therefore,  his  first  object  when 
he  applied  to  Christ.  And  it  ought  to  have  been  the  first 
blessing  which  he  sought  by  faith  ;  for,  until  a  condemned 
sinner  is  acquitted  from  the  curse  of  the  law,  no  other  bles- 
sing, nor  all  the  other  blessings  of  grace,  could  save  him. 
The  sentence  of  condemnation  must  be  repealed,  or  he 
must  perish,  whatever  else  were  done  for  him.  This  sol- 
emn fact  is,  however,  not  sufficiently  attended  to  even  by 
the  serious  :  and  hence  it  is,  that  many  of  them  begin  their 
believing  in  Christ — not  in  order  that  they  may  be  justified 
at  once,  or  first,  but  that  they  may  be  made  better,  and  be 
"born  again."  I  do  not,  of  course,  find  fault  with  this  ob- 
ject inbeheving.  Far  from  it.  The  man  who  does  not  ap- 
ply to  Christ  to  be  made  a  "  new  crealure,"  does  not  apply 
to  him  for  the  grand  purpose  for  which  Christ  died  and  rose 
again.  But  still,  salvation  from  sin,  althougli  the  chief 
practical  object  of  the  Atonement,  is  not  its  only  object. 


60  FELLOWSHIP     WIT  HGOD 

Christ  died  to  redeem  us  from  the  curse  of  the  law  ;  and  as 
nothing  can  place  the  soul  in  safety  while  it  is  under  that 
curse,  those  who  know  this  should  begin  their  believing  on 
Christ,  for  the  express  purpose  of  being  justified,  or  freed 
from  the  curse.  This  plan  of  proceeding  would  not  dis- 
place their  moral  designs,  nor  lessen  their  solicitude  about 
holiness  ;  and  it  would  bring  their  faith  in  Christ  to  the  test, 
far  more  effectually  than  the  other  plan  does.  The  man 
w^ho  is  trying  to  rely  on  the  Saviour,  merely  that  he  may  be 
enabled  to  become  a  better  mdiX\,  finds  this  kind  of  believing 
so  easy,  that  it  is  no  wonder  if  he  doubt  whether  his  be- 
lieving is  that  faith  which  is  produced  by  the  operation  of 
the  Spirit ; — whereas,  were  he  to  go  to  the  mercy-seat  for 
the  distinct  purpose  of  believing  in  Christ,  in  order  that  the 
curse  of  the  eternal  law  might  be  taken  off  from  his  soul ; 
this  solemn  errand  would  show  him  how  much  faith  he 
needed,  and  how  necessary  it  is  to  pray,  "  Lord,  help  my 
unbelief,  and  increase  my  faith," 


No.  VI. 

FELLOWSHIP  WITH  GOD  AND  THE  LAMB. 

Lv  nothing,  perhaps,  is  the  work  of  the  Holy  Spirit  upon 
the  heart  more  sensible  or  self-evident,  than  in  the  new 
views  and  feelings  which  it  produces  in  regard  to  prayer. 
Even  where  prayer  is  not  altogether  neglected,  nor  hurried 
over  heedlessly,  there  is  a  wonderful  change  of  sentiment 
takes  place,  whenever  the  Gospel  takes  effect  upon  the 
mind.  We  see  and  feel  then,  that  except  for  temporal  mer- 
cies, we  never  prayed  in  thorough  good  earnest,  nor  had 
any  real  love  or  relish  for  devotion.  It  was  often  perform- 
ed as  a  task,  and  always  as  a  mere  duty.  We  attended  to 
it  rather  to  prevent  temporal  evil,  than  to  obtain  spiritual 


A  N  D     T  II  E    L  A  M  B  .  61 

good  ;  and  more  from  a  dread  of  the  consequences  of  being 
prayerless,  than  from  any  pleasure  we  had  in  praying.  In- 
deed, as  to  pleasure  in  devotion,  it  seemed  to  us  a  contra- 
diction in  terms,  or  an  impossible  thing.  Accoidingly,  if 
we  knew  any  one  who  was  in  the  habit  of  spending  much 
time  in  his  closet,  we  were  ready,  if  not  to  rank  him  with 
the  Pharisees,  who  loved  "  long  prayers,"  to  wonder  what 
he  found  to  say  during  the  time.  And  when  we  heard  min- 
isters appeal  to  such  men,  affirming  that  they  sometimes 
left  their  closets  with  more  reluctance  than  they  ever  felt  on 
entering  them,  and  that  they  could  almost  have  chosen  to 
die  on  their  knees,  or  to  have  spent  an  eternity  in  that  hap- 
py frame  of  mind,  we  either  knew  not  what  to  think,  or 
thought  that  they  had  a  very  strange  taste  indeed.  In  a 
word,  there  was  nothing  seemed  so  unlikely  to  us,  as  that 
we  should  ever  take  pleasure  in  praying.  Rut  lo  !  wheu 
we  awoke  to  the  worth  of  our  immortal  souls,  and  were 
made  alive  to  the  infinite  value  of  an  everlasting  salvation, 
we  were  glad  of  any  opportunity  of  pouring  out  our  hearts 
unto  God.  Our  difficulty  then  was,  not  how  to  find  time  or 
heart  for  prayer,  but  how  to  obtain  answers  to  prayer  :  and 
we  were  never  so  happy  as  when  hope  and  peace  were 
stealing  upon  our  minds,  whilst  thus  wrestling  with  God  for 
mercy.  Then  we  began  to  understand  what  we  had  heard 
about  the  pleasures  of  devotion,  and  no  longer  wondered 
that  communion  with  God  should  be  magnetic  to  the  soul. 
And  it  is  no  wonder !  For  what  can  be  so  delightful  as 
that  holy  calm  of  the  mind  which  enables  us  to  unbosom 
unto  God,  as  unto  a  father,  all  our  feelings  and  desires  ;  to 
dwell  on  all  his  perfections,  not  only  without  dismay  or  dis- 
like, but  with  complacency  and  confidence  ;  to  repeat  and 
plead  all  his  great  and  precious  promises  with  faith  and 
hope ;  and  to  anticipate  his  guidance  until  death,  and  his 
presence  through  eternity  ?  This  is  a  joy  which  the  world 
cannot  give.  Even  when  it  does  not  rise  so  high  as  all  this, 
it  IS  more  satisfying  than  any  human  pleasure  ;  for  the 
heart  is  relieved  and  soothed,  if  it  can  only  pour  out  its 
VOL.  I. — 6 


62  FELLOWSHIPWITHOOD 

fears  and  anxieties  into  the  bosom  of  God.  The  bare  con- 
sciousness of  having  felt  as  in  his  presence,  wept  as  in  his 
presence,  and  spoken  as  in  his  presence,  leaves  a  sweet  so- 
lemnity upon  the  spirits,  which  is  healing,  if  not  exhilara- 
ting. And  when  the  soul  can  realize  God  as  noticing,  lis- 
tening, and  pitying,  and  feels  itself  getting  nearer  and  near- 
er to  his  presence  and  heart,  and  finds  itself  melted  and 
impressed,  as  if  he  were  visibly  present  or  audibly  speak- 
ing, then  its  joy  is  "  unspeakable,"  even  if  it  is  not  "  full  of 
glory." 

These  hints  will  remind  you  of  the 

"  Moments  rich  in  blessing," 

which  you  have  spent  upon  your  knees  before  the  Cross 
and  the  mercy-seat.  You  can,  indeed,  never  forget  those 
closet  interviews  with  God  and  the  Lamb  ;  for  they  were 
the  chief  means  of  determining  your  choice,  of  fixing  your 
principles,  and  of  forming  your  character.  You  may,  in- 
deed, have  lost  so  much  of  your  first  devotional  spirit,  that 
you  no  longer  obtain  such  happy  interviews  with  God  in 
your  closet ;  and  if  so,  you  cannot  remember  the  past  with- 
out pain.  You  cannot,  however,  forget  the  days  of  old, 
nor  the  morning  of  your  first  love.  They  are  imperishable 
recollections  in  every  renewed  soul ;  for  when  communion 
with  God  sets  as  a  day-star  in  the  heart,  the  memory  of  it 
rises  as  a  dog-star  in  the  conscience.  Your  shadow  is  not 
more  inseparable  from  you  than  the  consciousness  of  your 
loss  and  declension  ;  and  hence  your  secret,  if  not  your 
public,  language  is,  "  0  that  it  were  with  me  as  in  months 
past,  when  the  candle  of  the  Lord  shone  in  my  tabernacle !" 
Now,  when  those  who  have  enjoyed  communion  with 
God  lose  it  thus,  there  can  be  no  doubt  that  there  has  been 
on  their  own  part,  some  sin,  imprudence,  or  remissness, 
which  occasioned  the  loss  :  for  God  is  not  i\\q  first  to  hide 
his  face,  nor  does  he  ever  withhold  his  presence  arbitra- 
rily. He  may  not  always  manifest  himself  to  the  soul  so 
sensibly  and  sweetly  as  at  first ;  but  he  docs  not  withdraw 


AND     THE    LAM  K.  63 

his  presence  entirely,  except  when  he  is  provoked  :  but  as 
it  is  the  exhalations  from  the  earth,  and  not  from  the  heav- 
ens, which  form  the  clouds  and  mist  that  hide  the  natural 
sun,  so  it  is  something  from  ourselves,  not  from  God,  which 
conceals  the  Sun  of  Righteousness  from  those  who,  hav- 
ing once  walked  in  his  light,  now  walk  in  darkness.  Such 
being  the  fact  of  the  case,  it  is  self-evident  that  the  dark- 
ness cannot  be  removed,  but  by  the  removal  of  that  which 
brought  it  on,  whatever  it  w^as.  Whetiier  sin  or  sloth,  neg- 
ligence or  irregularity,  wrong  tempers  or  bad  habits,  they 
must  be  abandoned,  if  w^e  would  have  the  light  of  the  Di- 
vine countenance,  or  the  joy  of  salvation,  restored.  For 
"  if  we  say  that  we  have  fellowsliip  with  Him,  and  lualk  in 
darkness,  ice  lie,  and  do  not  the  truth."  We  never  can 
combine  a  worldly  spirit  with  a  devotional  spirit,  nor  keep 
up  a  good  hope  in  a  bad  conscience.  In  like  manner,  if 
less  time  than  usual  is  allowed  for  secret  prayer,  or  less 
pains  taken  to  enter  into  and  keep  up  the  spirit  of  it,  com- 
munion with  God  is  not  to  be  obtained,  and  need  not  be 
expected.  God  does  not,  indeed,  exact  a  long  time  for 
prayer  ;  but,  until  we  seek  him  with  our  "  whole  heart,"  he 
will  not  cheer  our  hearts  with  a  sense  of  his  presence.  He 
will  be  "  inquired  of,"  before  he  will  shine  forth  from  be- 
tNveen  the  cherubim.  Now,  hasty  and  heartless  prayer 
does  not  amount  to  inquiring ;  and  it  hinders  the  manifesta- 
tions of  the  Divine  presence.  Indeed,  haste,  like  the  un- 
belief of  the  Jews,  which  prevented  Christ  from  doing 
many  mighty  w^orks  among  them,  prevents  God  from  com- 
muning with  the  soul  from  the  mercy-seat.  There  is  not 
time  for  it,  when  we  are  in  haste  to  get  away  from  our 
closets.  We  ourselves  are  not  prepared  to  enjoy  or  im- 
prove it,  when  we  are  up  from  our  knees  in  a  few  minutes. 
We  could  not  commune  with  a  friend  in  that  space  of  time, 
nor  in  that  state  of  mind :  so  that  when  prayer  comes  to 
this  low  ebb,  it  is  no  wonder  if  Bethel  is  turned  into  Luz 
again,  and  the  soul  sent  empty  away  from  the  throne  of 
grace. 


64  FELLOWSHIP     V/ITHGOD 

But,  whilst  all  this  is  only  too  true,  it  is  equally  true,  that 
mistakes,  on  the  subject  of  communion  with  God,  prevail 
so  as  to  prevent  it  in  a  great  measure,  even  when  there  is 
much  prayer  and  watchfulness  maintained.  Some  do  not 
venture  to  expect  much  of  the  Divine  presence,  but  actually 
lay  their  account  with  walking  often  in  darkness,  because 
they  see  how  often  Job,  and  David,  and  Asaph,  and  Jere- 
miah, and  the  Old  Testament  saints,  were  under  the  hi- 
dings of  the  Divine  countenance.  Observing  this  fact,  some 
believers  take  for  granted,  and  as  a  matter  of  course,  that 
they  must  experience  similar  trials  of  their  faith  and  pa- 
tience, however  they  act. 

Now,  it  is  certainly  true,  that  the  complaints  of  the  Old 
Testament  saints  are  only  too  appropriate  to  the  generality 
of  Christians.  There  is  almost  all  the  darkness  and  dis- 
tress of  mind,  which  the  Psalms  are  employed  to  express, 
and  w  hich  they  do  express  so  fully  and  emphatically.  But 
this  should  not  be  the  case — it  is  not  necessarily  the  case 
< — in  the  church  of  Christ.  We  live  under  "  a  better  Cov- 
enant," and  brighter  promises  ;  and  therefore  it  is  our  own 
fault,  by  misconduct  or  mistake,  if  we  have  no  more  light 
than  those  who  lived  under  the  old  Covenant.  If,  however, 
we  are  willing  and  trying  to  walk  closely  with  God,  and  to 
enjoy  an  habitual  sense  of  his  presence,  why  form  our 
ideas  or  expectations  from  the  state  of  things  under  the 
old  Covenant  ?  It  certainly  does  not  follow,  as  a  matter 
of  course,  that,  because  David  was  often  in  darkness,  a  real 
Christian  must  be  so  too.  It  Is  not  a  matter  of  necessity 
that,  because  Job  could  not  find  the  Divine  presence,  we 
should  be  unable  to  find  it.  These  good  men  had,  indeed, 
some  greater  excellencies  of  character  than  we  can  pre- 
tend to  ;  and,  on  that  ground,  were  more  likely  to  be  hon- 
oured with  moro  of  the  Divine  presence  ;  but  tlie  dispen- 
sation which  they  lived  under  did  not  provide  for  so  much 
of  it  as  the  Gospel  does.  Christ  says  to  us,  "  He  that 
believeth  on  me  shall  not  wnlk  in  darkness,  but  have  the 
light  of  life."     Accordingly,  we  do  not  find  the  Apostles 

4» 


AND    THE     LAMB.  65 

complaining,  as  the  Prophets  did,  that  they  were  under  the 
hidings  of  God's  face.  They  complain  bitterly  of  the  pres- 
ence and  pressure  of  a  body  of  sin  and  death,  and  of  a  law 
in  their  members  which  warred  against  the  law  of  their 
minds  ;  but  never  of  an  ahsent  God. 

This  matter  requires  to  be  looked  into  minutely,  seeing 
so  many  form  their  opinions  and  expectations  of  commun- 
ion with  God,  from  the  old,  instead  of  the  new  Covenant. 
Now,  we  do  not  take  the  old  Covenant  for  our  principal 
guide  in  any  thing  else.  We  even  boast  of  our  superior 
light  and  liberty  under  the  Gospel,  and  of  our  nearer  and 
freer  access  to  God,  and  of  our  greater  privileges.  But, 
where  is  the  reality  of  these  blessings,  if  we  w.ust  be  as 
often  in  darkness  and  distress  of  soul  as  David  was  ?  I 
say  "  must,"  because  it  is  certain  that  we  may  and  shall  go 
without  the  sun  if  we  do  not  walk  circumspectly.  The 
Holy  Spirit  will  frown  upon  sin  and  sloth  as  fully  under 
the  Gospel  as  he  did  under  the  law,  and  certainly  withhold 
and  withdraw  the  joy  of  salvation  from  backsliders.  All 
this  is  inevitable  from  the  eternal  principles  of  the  Divine 
character  and  government,  because  it  is  the  only  way  of 
preventing  or  curing  sin  and  backsliding  among  believers. 
But  still,  the  real  question  is,  what  have  they  to  expect 
under  the  Gospel,  whose  life  and  conversation  "  becometh 
the  Gospel  ?"  Now,  as  they  are  not  warranted  to  expect 
exemption  from  trials  or  temptations,  it  must  be  more  of 
the  Divine  presence  than  Avas  usually  enjoyed  by  the  saints 
under  the  law.  Accordingly,  except  in  those  churches 
which  had  fallen  from  their  first  love  and  purity,  we  find, 
amongst  the  primitive  Christians,  no  indications  of  those 
complaints  which  were  so  frequent  in  the  Jewish  church. 
The  sad  and  piercing  cry,  "  Why  hast  thou  forsaken  me  ?" 
— and  "Why  art  thou  silent  at  the  voice  of  my  roaring?" — 
is  never  heard  from  any  believer,  in  any  of  the  New  Tes- 
tament Churches ;  a  plain  proof  that,  after  the  veil  of  the 
temple  was  rent  from  top  to  bottom,  believers  had  boldness 
of  access  into  the  holy  of  holies  by  the  blood  of  Christ, 

6* 


66  F  E  L  L  0  \V  S  H  I  P     \V  IT  H     G  0  D 

and  were  thus  sure  to  find  God  whenever  they  sought  him. 
Now,  from  this  fact,  and  not  from  the  case  of  David,  we 
ought  to  form  our  opinions  and  expectations  of  communion 
with  God. 

Besides,  it  is  by  far  too  little  remembered  that  David 
was  a  prophetic  type  of  the  Saviour,  and  thus  gave  utter- 
ance to  his  mediatorial  sorrows,  as  well  as  to  his  own  per- 
sonal sorrows — a  fact  which  lessens  very  much  the  number 
of  those  hidings  of  the  Divine  presence  which  he  seems  to 
have  experienced.  In  like  manner,  their  number  is  still 
further  reduced  by  the  fact,  that,  under  the  Jewish  dispen- 
sation, temporal  calamities  were  considered  as  hidings  of 
God's  countenance  ;  and  delay  in  removing  affliction  was 
spoken  of  as  the  shutting  out  of  prayer.  It  is,  therefore, 
both  unnecessary  and  unwise  to  make  the  apparent  experi- 
ence of  David,  the  standard  of  what  may  be  expected  from 
a  close  walk  with  God  in  Christ.  By  doing  so,  many  have 
deprived  themselves  of  much  comfort,  and  God  of  much 
honour. 

1  he  truth  of  these  remarks  is  not  affected  by  the  mel- 
ancholy fact,  that  the  enjoyment  of  the  Divine  presence,  or 
intimate  communion  with  God,  is  a  rare  thing  in  the  pres- 
ent day.  It  certainly  is  so  :  but  not  because  God  is  unwil- 
ling to  commune  with  us  at  the  mercy-seat — not  because 
there  is  not  ample  provision  made  for  nearness  and  free- 
ncss  of  access  to  him — but  because  so  few  seek  him  with 
their  "  whole  heart,"  or  allow  him  Wne  to  manifest  his  pres- 
ence to  their  souls.  Settle  it,  therefore,  in  your  own  mind, 
for  it  is  settled  already  and  unalterably  in  his  Word,  that 
you  arc  "  not  straitened"  in  God  or  in  the  Lamb.  Your 
fellowship  may  be  truly  and  ha1)itually  with  them,  if  you 
are  willing  to  "  walk  in  the  light,"  as  they  are  in  the  light. 
If  you  are  ready,  "  all  things"  in  heaven  "  are  ready,"  for 
sweet  communion  with  God.  The  Lamb  is  in  the  midst 
of  the  throne  with  a  censor  of  meritorious  incense,  in  the 
shadow  of  which  you  may  always  kneel  with  safety,  and 
from  the  fragran.ce  of  which  your  prayers  may  always  find 


AND     THE     LAMB.  67 

acceptance,  when  they  are  according  to  the  will  of  God. 
And  the  infirmity-helping  Spirit  is  ever  at  hand  to  teach 
you  how  to  pray  and  what  to  pray  for.  "  jEn^er,"  therefore, 
"  into  thy  closet^  and  when  thou  hast  shut  thy  door,  pray  to 
thy  Father  which  is  in  secret,  and  thy  Father  which  seeth  in 
secret,  shall  reward  thee  openly" 

In  order,  however,  to  understand  the  subject  of  commun- 
ion with  God  aright,  more  mistakes  require  to  be  removed. 
Now,  it  is  a  mistake  to  imagine  that  nothing  amounts  to  the 
Divine  presence  in  prayer,  but  what  produces  a  holy  calm 
of  mind,  or  a  high  excitement  of  feeling.  We  naturally 
make  our  first  sensible  enjoyments  in  prayer,  the  standard 
by  which  we  judge  of  our  future  success.  Accordingly, 
when  we  do  not  find  that  delight  nor  liberty  which  we  ex- 
perienced formerly,  we  are  apt  to  conclude  that  God  has 
hid  his  face  from  us,  or  that  we  have  lost  the  spirit  of  de- 
votion. Under  this  impression,  we  go  heartless  and  hope- 
less to  our  closets,  and  feel,  at  times,  almost  inclined  to  give 
up  prayer,  because  we  have  no  longer  our  usual  enjoyment 
in  it.  Sometimes,  indeed,  our  hearts  are  so  cold  and  dead, 
that  it  seems  an  insult  to  God  to  attempt  prayer  in  such  a 
frame.  We  cannot,  however,  live  long  without  it ;  and 
therefore  we  are  compelled  to  pray,  as  we  can,  soon.  Our 
memory,  however,  clings  to  the  sweet  and  soothing  mo- 
ments of  the  days  of  old,  and  our  souls  continue  to  long 
for  the  return  of  these  "  times  of  refreshing  from  the  pres- 
ence of  the  Lord."  Now  this  is  right :  but  it  is  wrong  to 
make  them  the  standard  of  the  Divine  presence.  Such 
ecstatic  enioviiimt  in  devotion,  as  that  which  is  sometimes 
vouchsafed  to  the  soul  at  the  outset,  is  not  necessary  in  or- 
der to  our  going  on  in  the  walk  of  faith.  For,  when  we 
began  to  follow  Christ,  there  was  reluctance,  yea,  aversion 
of  heart,  to  prayer,  to  be  overcome.  It  was,  therefore,  ne- 
cessary, in  order  to  reconcile  and  attach  us  to  prayer,  to 
grant  such  enjoyment  in  it,  as  should  prove  to  us  that  it  was 
no  vain  nor  wearisome  thing  to  wait  on  God.  But  now  we 
are  convinced  of  this,  and  ashamed  of  our  former  preju- 


68  F  E  L  L  0  W  S  H  I  P    W  I  T  H    G  0  D  . 

dices  against  devotion.  We  know  by  experience  that  it  is 
"  good  to  draw  nigh  unto  God,"  nor  could  any  one  persuade 
us  that  it  is  insipid  or  useless  work.  We  are  not  ashamed 
to  avow  that  our  happiest  moments  have  been  spent  at  his 
throne.  So  far,  therefore,  our  first  communion  with  God 
has  answered  the  purpose  of  establishing  the  claims  and 
the  habit  of  prayer  ;  and  this  being  accomplished,  raptures 
should  not  be  necessary  to  maintain  them,  but  the  steady 
oar  of  duty,  without  the  fidl  sail  of  excitement,  enough  to 
carry  us  on. 

This  is,  however,  only  the  lowest  view  of  the  matter, 
and  but  introductory  to  more  scriptural  views  of  it.  The 
real  fact  of  the  case  is — that  our  first  enjoyments  in  prayer 
are  not  always  connected  with  clear  views  of  the  whole 
scheme  of  salvation.  What  we  knew  of  it  at  first,  we  felt 
deeply,  and  prized  highly ;  but,  then,  we  attached  quite  as 
much  importance  to  our  own  feelings,  as  to  the  facts  which 
gave  rise  to  them ;  and  drew,  perhaps,  more  of  our  com- 
fort from  them,  than  from  the  Gospel  itself.  We  might 
not,  indeed,  be  aware  of  this  at  the  time,  and  may  never 
have  intended  to  do  so  ;  but  that  we  really  did  so,  is  evi- 
dent, from  the  single  fact,  that  when  our  feelings  began  to 
decline,  our  comfort  decayed  with  them,  although  our  be- 
lief of  the  Gospel  continued  almost  unaltered  ;  a  plain 
proof  that  we  attached,  though  perhaps  unintentionally, 
more  importance  to  the  work  of  the  Spirit  in  us,  than  to  the 
work  of  Christ  for  us.  God,  I  am  fully  aware,  does  not 
make  the  nice  distinctions  which  theorists  do  on  this  sub- 
ject, nor  does  he  scorn  the  confusion  of  idea.-?  which  mark 
our  first  appliciitions  to  the  Saviour.  He  can  listen  with 
pleasure  to  the  l)roken  music  of  a  "  bruised"  reed,"  howev- 
er Sandemaniajiism  may  despise  it.  But,  whilst  all  this  is 
true,  it  is  equally  true  that  he  will  gradually  bring  off  con- 
verts from  relying  on  \\\Qir  feelings,  jus^s  he  brought  them 
ofT  from  relying  on  thoir  works.  In  a  word,  he  will  make 
Christ  himself,  and  bis  finished  work,  more  precious  to  oui 
souls,  than  any  feelings  which  they  gave  rise  to. 


THE     HOPE     OF     SALVATION.  69 

Here,  then,  except  the  Holy  Spirit  has  been  grieved  by 
an  untender  walk,  is  the  grand  reason  why  God  does  not 
continue  our  sensible  and  rapturous  enjoyments  in  prayer : 
we  were,  unawares,  it  may  be,  but  certainly,  putting  it  in 
the  place  of  the  Saviour  himself;  and  therefore  God  wise- 
ly and  kindly  withheld  it  as  a  direct  communication  from 
his  Spirit,  that  we  might  draw  all  our  hope  and  comfort 
from  the  Gospel  itself,  and  learn  to  live  by  faith  upon  Christ 
as  he  is  revealed  to  us  in  the  Scriptures.  God  has  not, 
therefore,  been  hiding  his  face  from  you,  nor  yet  shutting 
out  your  prayer,  because  he  has  not  shone  upon  your  soul 
in  prayer  as  formerly  ;  but  because  you  required  to  be  more 
completely  "  shut  up  unto  the  faith."  You  were  living 
more  by  sense  than  by  faith,  and  thus  it  became  necessary 
to  draw  and  drive  you  off  from  changeable  feelings  to  an 
unchangeable  Saviour.  Accordingly,  the  want  of  sensible 
enjoyment  has  compelled  you  to  re-examine  the  plan  of 
salvation,  and  to  re-consider  whether  you  were  seeking  to 
be  justified  by  faith,  or.  "  as  it  were,  by  the  works  of  the 
law." 


No.  VII. 

THE  HOPE  OF  SALVATION  THE  BEST  SAFE- 
GUARD TO  THE  UNDERSTANDING  AGAINST 
ERROR,  AND  OF  THE  HEART  AGAINST   SIN. 

Alexander  the  Great  having,  on  one  occasion,  distrib- 
uted the  whole  of  his  private  fortune  among  his  friends 
and  generals,  was  asked  why  he  left  nothing  for  himself: 
"  Hope  is  still  left  for  me,"  said  the  ardent  monarch.  And, 
in  the  affairs  of  this  life,  hope  is  still  the  last  thing  which 

*  See  this  subject  fully  treated  in  the  second  part  of  this  volume, 
"  Communion  with  God,  or  a  Guide  to  the  Devotional.'''' 


70  THE     HOPE     OF     SALVATION. 

'we  relinquish.  It  seats  itself  upon  the  throne  of  the  heart 
in  the  morning  of  life,  and  leaves  it  only  when  the  heart  is 
breaking  nnder  the  cold  hand  of  death.  It  hovers  around 
the  cradle  of  our  infancy,  when  "  it  doth  not  appear  what 
we  shall  66;"  and  over  the  coffin  of  our  old  age,  when  it 
doth  not  appear  what  we  are.  Hope  is  the  sun  that  rules 
the  "  day,"  and  the  moon  that  rules  the  "  night"  of  life.  It 
is  the  rainbow  w-hich  gilds  the  clouds  of  our  calamity,  and 
the  morning  star  which  leads  on  our  brighter  prospects. 
In  a  word,  hope  is  to  the  soul  what  the  soul  is  to  the  body 
— the  mainspring  of  life  and  action.  Take  it  away,  and 
soon  the  energies  of  the  body  and  the  mind  wither  and  per- 
ish. Hopeless  labour  is  all  fatigue  ;  hopeless  enterprise 
is  unsteady  ;  hopeless  suffering  is  overwhelming. 

Whatever,  therefore,  may  be  said  in  theory,  against  ho- 
ping too  much,  and  whatever  may  be  proved  from  expe- 
rience, against  the  indulgence  of  sanguine  hopes,  the  sober 
fact  is,  that  hope  is  essential  to  success  in  all  the  business 
of  life  ;  because,  without  it,  diligence  is  weak  and  resolu- 
tion wavering.  The  business  of  life  could  not  go  on,  nor 
the  trials  of  life  be  sustained,  if  mankind  did  not  wear  the 
helmet  of  hope.  It  is  their  strength  and  safeguard  amidst 
the  duties  and  sufferings  of  the  present  state  of  being. 

All  this  is  equally  true  of  the  hope  of  salvation :  it  is 
the  liehnct  of  the  Christian,  which,  by  protecting  his  head 
from  mental  error,  fortifies  his  heart  against  temptation,  dis- 
traction, and  despondency.  His  very  character  is  both 
formed  and  confirmed  chiefly  by  the  hope  of  salvation,  and 
rises  or  falls  as  that  hope  is  high  or  low.  When  his  hopes 
are  dim  or  languid,  duty,  and  espocially  devotion,  languishes 
with  them ;  when  they  arc  bright  and  firm,  all  duties  are 
pleasant  and  all  trials  tolerable.  He  has  then  heart  and 
hand  to  do  and  endure  the  will  of  God.  But  when  the 
hopes  of  a  Christian  decline  and  fade  away,  until  he  hardly 
knows  what  to  think  of  his  case,  the  effect  is,  that  although 
he  will  not  throw  up  his  profession,  nor  risk  his  character, 
he  will  not  maintain  either  so  well  as  he  did  whilst  he  was 


THE     HOPE     OF     SALVATION.  71 

sustained  by  a  hope  full  of  iftimortality.  He  may  still  pray 
in  his  family  and  in  his  closet ;  but  not  with  a  truly  devo- 
tional spirit.  He  may  still  continue  regular  in  his  attend- 
ance upon  all  divine  ordinances ;  but  he  vi^ill  not  come  to 
them  with  liis  former  relish  or  expectation  :  for  hope  is  the 
very  soul  of  devotion  and  holiness,  and  therefore  they 
abound  or  subside  together.  Hence  the  importance  and 
necessity  of  maintaining  the  hope  of  salvation. 

Now,  it  is  a  curious  fact,  that  the  truly  serious  are  the 
most  "  slow  of  heart"  to  take  up,  or  to  keep  up,  the  hope  of 
salvation.  They  are  the  last  to  lay  hold  of  it,  and  the  first 
to  let  it  go,  in  their  own  case.  Indeed,  real  converts  are 
almost  the  only  class  who  require  to  be  urged  to  cherish 
hope.  The  generality,  even  of  the  careless  and  undecided, 
hope  for  salvation,  just  as  they  hope  for  any  thing  else,  as 
a  matter  of  course.  "  As  I  hope  to  be  saved,"  is  the  usual 
mode  of  expression,  when  any  doubtful  assertion  is  con- 
firmed. Thus  it  is — we  seldom  see  a  careless  man  who  is 
afraid  to  hope  for  salvation  ;  and  we  never  see  a  godly  man, 
who  has  not  been  afraid  to  hope  for  it  in  his  own  case. 
Indeed,  it  is  with  a  timid  heart  and  a  trembling  hand,  that 
all  true  penitents  lay  hold  of  the  hope  of  eternal  life. 
Even  when  they  see  both  their  way  and  their  welcome  to 
"  the  hope  set  before  them"  in  the  Gospel,  their  sense  of 
utter  unworthiness  almost  unfits  them  for  hoping  freely  or 
fully.  And  even  when  they  venture  to  cherish  "  a  good 
hope  through  gi-ace,"  they  are  almost  ashamed  and  afraid  to 
acknowledge  it  to  others,  or,  indeed,  to  themselves.  Now, 
if  such  timidity  and  hesitation  were  as  wise  as  they  are 
amiable,  it  would  be  wise  to  let  them  alone  :  for  any  thing 
that  would  change  them  into  rashness  or  flippant  boldness 
would  be  highly  unwise  and  wicked.  They  may,  however, 
be  removed,  Avithout  being  replaced  by  presumption  or 
boasting.  Paul's  humility  was  not  destroyed  nor  lessened, 
when  he  ventured  to  say  of  Christ,  "  He  loved  me,  and 
gave  himself  for  me.''  In  fact,  the  belief  of  this  deepened 
his  humility,  by  increasing  his  happiness.     The  joy  of  sal- 


72  THE     HOPE     OF     SALVATION. 

vation  was  "  the  strength"  of  his  heart,  in  all  the  holy 
principles,  in  which  it  was  strongest.  How  did  he  pass 
so  uncontaminated  through  a  world  lying  in  wickedness  ; 
and  so  unshaken  through  all  the  clamour  and  sophistry  of 
controversy  ;  and  so  triumphant  through  all  his  trials  and 
persecutions  ?  He  wore  the  hope  of  salvation,  as  a  helmet 
upon  his  head  ;  and  his  understanding  being  thus  protected 
against  mental  error,  his  heart  and  conscience  were  fortified 
against  temptation.  And  thus  alone  can  you  keep  "  the 
faith,"  or  continue  the  "  good  fight ;"  for,  without  the  hope 
of  salvation  to  guard  your  judgment,  your  principles  may  be  so 
upset  or  unsettled,  by  false  doctrine,  as  to  yield  no  enjoy- 
ment under  trouble,  and  no  strength  in  the  hour  of  temptation. 

It  is,  I  am  aware,  more  common  to  encourage  believers  in 
their  work  and  warfare,  by  persuading  them  to  keep  up  heart, 
than  by  urging  them  to  guard  well  their  understanding  and 
judgment.  But  the  heart  cannot  be  kept  up,  if  the  liead  is 
not  kept  safe  from  the  assaults  of  error.  Our  intellectual 
powers  must  be  protected,  if  we  would  keep  our  moral 
powers  pure  or  vigorous  ;  for  we  cannot  feel  aright,  if  we 
judge  wrong  ;  nor  act  aright,  if  we  choose  wrong ;  nor 
maintain  a  good  conscience,  if  we  give  way  to  a  disordered 
imagination.  Now,  the  grand  security  for  a  "  sound  mind," 
and  through  that,  for  a  "pure  heart,"  is  to  ^^ put  on  for  a 
helmet  the  hope  of  salvation.''''  That  hope,  by  entrenching 
the  understanding  in  the  truth  of  the  Gospel,  will  best  lay 
and  keep  open  the  heart  to  all  the  holy  and  consoling  influ- 
ence of  the  Gospel. 

The  point  on  which  these  general  remarks  bear  is  this  ; 
we  may  be  so  tempted  by  infidelity  and  false  doctrines,  and 
get  so  entangled  with  doubts,  or  disputes  as  to  be  unable  to 
maintain  our  ground.  Now,  as  every  one  cannot  pursue 
that  course  of  reading,  nor  follow  out  that  train  of  reason- 
ing, which  would  clear  up  all  speculative  difilculties,  it  is 
of  the  utmost  importance  to  be  fnniiHar  with  some  single 
and  simple  fact  of  revelation,  which  shall  be  an  "  anchor  to 
the  soul,  sure  and  steadfast,"  amidst  the  winds  of  doctrine, 


THE     HOPE     OF    SALVATION.  73 

and  the  fluctuations  of  opinion ;  and  which  shall  regulate 
the  mind  as  the  magnetism  of  the  pole  does  the  motions  of 
the  needle.  Now,  the  security  is  to  be  found  in  "  the  hope 
of  salvation."  The  man  who  understands  the  salvation  of 
God,  and  cherishes  the  hope  of  it,  has,  within  himself,  a 
retreat  from  which  no  sophistry  nor  error  can  drive  or  draw 
him  away. 

Is  he  tempted  to  Infidelity  ?  Its  objections  may  be  plau- 
sible, and  its  sarcasms  perplexing,  to  him.  He  may  be  un- 
able to  answer  or  to  analyze  them  in  detail.  They  may 
throw  a  momentary  spell  upon  his  spirit,  and  a  mist  on  his 
vision :  but  he  will  see,  at  a  glance,  and  feel  with  all  the 
keenness  of  a  sensation,  that  infidelity  has  nothing  to  offer, 
which  can  be  compared  with  the  "  great  salvation"  it  would 
rob  him  of.  For,  if  present  hope  and  eternal  happiness  are 
his  objects,  he  has  securities  for  them  in  the  Bible,  infinite- 
ly stronger  than  natural  religion  can  give  to  her  votaries,  for 
the  vague  prospects  which  they  cherish.  Thus,  the  mo- 
ment he  looks  to  the  hope  of  salvation,  he  perceives  that  the 
light  of  nature  reveals  no  such  heaven  beyond  the  grave, 
nor  ratifies  any  one  hope  which  it  is  said  to  inspire.  So 
long,  therefore,  as  eternal  happiness  is  dear  to  him,  his  faith 
in  the  Gospel  is  impregnable  to  all  the  assaults  of  scep- 
ticism, because  he  must  be  a  loser  by  that  system.  Thus  the 
single  and  simple  reflection — I  could  gain  nothing,  and  I 
might  lose  all,  by  relinquishing  the  Bible — enables  him  to 
possess  his  soul  in  patience,  amidst  all  the  mysteries  of 
revelation,  and  all  the  wiles  of  its  enemies. 

Nor  is  this  all :  the  man  who  is  familiar  with,  and  con- 
firmed in,  the  hope  of  the  "  great  salvation,"  soon  per- 
ceives that  its  character  is  peculiar ;  so  peculiar,  that  it  has 
no  parallel  nor  semblance  in  any  rival  system.  He  may 
not  know,  in  detail,  the  moral  character  of  ancient  heathen- 
ism, nor  the  precise  nature  of  that  heaven  which  philosophy 
dreamt  of ;  but  from  all  that  he  hears,  even  from  the  eulo- 
gists of  the  philosophers,  it  is  self-evident  to  him,  that  they 
never  thought  of  such  a  salvation  as  the  Gospel  reveals. 

VOL.  I. — 7 


74  THE     HOPE     OFSALVATION. 

Indeed,  the  more  he  is  plied  with  their  boasted  discoveries, 
the  more  will  he  feel  persuaded  that  it  never  "  entered  the 
heart  of  man  to  conceive  what  God  hath  laid  up  for  them 
that  love  him."  Thus,  the  humblest  believer  is  ball-proof 
against  all  the  array  of  infidel  philosophy  ;  because  he  has 
only  to  observe,  that  its  best  morals  do  not  amounc,  even  in 
theory,  to  conformity  to  the  Divine  image  ;  nor  its  highest 
purity  to  true  holiness  ;  nor  its  brightest  prospects  to  any 
thing  like  the  heaven  of  the  Bible.  Its  very  Platos  are  vile, 
whem  compared  with  the  Apostles  of  the  Lamb,  and  its 
Socrateses  are  but  children  in  their  company.  In  a  word, 
he  can  find  nothing,  true  or  false,  in  any  systein  of  natural 
religion,  which  even  borders  upon  the  sublime  idea  of  a 
salvation  which  embraces  the  justification  of  "  soul,  body, 
and  spirit,"  for  eternity  !  All  human  schemes  propose  no- 
thing beyond  the  amendment  of  human  nature  ;  for  the  Gos- 
pel alone  proposes  to  make  us  "  holy  as  God  is  holyT  We 
have,  therefore,  in  order  to  be  unmoved  by  all  the  parade  of 
learned  scepticism,  only  to  keep  before  us  the  holy  character 
of  the  great  salvation;  that,  like  the  spear  of  Ithuriel,  will 
always  detect  Satan,  even  when  he  transforms  himself  into 
an  angel  of  the  Light  of  Nature. 

In  like  manner,  is  the  believer  tempted  to  JJnitarianism  ? 
He  is  perfectly  safe,  so  long  as  he  wears,  as  a  helmet,  the 
hope  of  that  salvation  which  is  revealed  in  the  Gospel 
His  knowledge  of  criticism,  or  of  logic,  or  of  ecclesiastical 
history,  may  be  too  slight  to  assist  his  faith.  But,  even  if 
he  is  unal)le  to  draw  upon  any  other  source  than  his  En- 
glish Bible,  the  very  heaven  which  it  reveals  will  render  his 
faith  impregnable  to  the  whole  artillery  of  Socinian  learn- 
ing and  8oi)histry.  They  may  puzzle  him  with  the  ambi- 
guities of  a  figurative  text,  or  set  him  fast  by  some  sweep- 
ing assertion,  or  perplex  him  by  an  appeal  to  his  common 
sense,  which  the  uncommon  sense  of  an  angel  could  not 
answer  by  dint  of  mere  reasoning ;  but  still  he  is  safe,  and 
may  be  triumphant,  if  he  wield  the  character  of  the  heaven 
of  the  Bil)le  manfully.     Neither  the  blustering  assertions, 


THE     HOPE     OFSALVATION.  75 

nor  the  sleek  insinuations  of  Unitarianism,  can  move  him, 
while  he  takes  his  stand  on  "  the  sea  of  glass  before  the 
throne  ;"  because  there,  he  hears  songs  and  sentiments, 
which  give  the  lie  direct  to  both  the  letter  and  spirit  of  Uni- 
tarian worship.  There,  all  the  armies  of  heaven  at  the 
same  time  and  in  the  same  terms,  adore  both  God  and  the 
Lamb.  Their  posture  is  as  lowly,  and  their  song  as  lofty, 
when  they  worship  the  Son,  as  when  ihey  worship  the  Fa- 
ther. And,  in  regard  to  salvation,  all  "  the  spirits  of  just 
men  made  perfect"  ascribe  it  entirely  and  exclusively  to 
the  blood  of  Christ.  Thus,  there  rushes  down  from  all  the 
hearts  and  harps  of  heaven,  one  uniform  and  everlasting 
stream  of  equal  glory  to  God  and  the  Lamb,  and  of  adoring 
gratitude  for  the  Atonement.  And,  then,  all  this  goes  for- 
ward in  the  presence,  and  with  the  permission,  and  there- 
fore by  the  appointment  of  God  :  for  neither  angels  nor 
saints  would  dare  to  worship  as  they  do,  in  heaven,  if  it 
were  not  "  the  will  of  God'''  that  they  should  honour  the 
Son  even  as  they  honour  the  Father  ;  and  that  the  Atone- 
ment should  have  all  the  glory  of  salvation.  Nothing  but 
the  divine  will  could  establish  such  worship  amongst  per- 
fect spirits  ;  and  it  is  self-evident  that  God  would  not  have 
willed  it,  if  it  were  not  agreeable  to  the  eternal  facts  of  his 
nature,  and  the  moral  principles  of  his  government. 

Thus  the  believer  has  all  heaven  on  his  side,  in  defence 
of  his  hope  of  salvation  through  the  merits  of  a  divine  and 
atoning  Saviour.  If,  therefore,  he  cannot  quote  scholar 
against  scholar,  nor  antiquity  against  modern  upstarts,  nor 
the  canons  of  criticism  against  sciolists,  he  can  quote  the 
"  New  Song"  against  all  the  reasonings  and  railings  of  his 
opponents,  and  appeal  to  "  the  general  assembly"  of  saints 
and  angels,  for  the  truth  of  his  sentiments.  That  army  of 
the  living  God,  cannot,  he  is  sure,  mislead  nor  deceive  him; 
and  as  he  knows,  from  their  example,  what  is  the  "  will"  of 
God  in  heaven,  and  how  it  is  "  done"  there,  he  is  equally 
sure  that,  whilst  adoring  God  and  the  Lamb,  and  glorying 
only  in  the  Cross,  he  is  doing  the  will  of  God  "  on  earth" 


76  THE     HOPE     OF     SALVATION. 

exactly  "  as  it  is  done  in  heaven."  Thus  the  great  princi- 
ples of  a  Christian's  faith  are  as  infallible  as  the  worship 
of  heaven.  We  have  only  to  keep  clearly  before  our  minds 
the  character  of  the  great  salvation,  which  is — that  it  is 
blood-bought,  in  order  to  see  at  a  glance  that  Unitarianism 
is  as  unlike  it  as  Mahometanism  is. 

In  like  manner,  is  the  believer  tempted  to  Antinomianism  ? 
He  is  perfectly  safe  against  all  its  insinuating  snares,  while 
he  maintains  the  hope  of  that  salvation  which  is  revealed 
in  the  Gospel.  It  is  a  Ao/y  salvation,  if  it  is  any  thing.  A 
salvation  from  sin,  not  in  sin.  How  any  one  can  overlook 
this  self-evident  fact,  is  most  amazing ;  for  it  is  written,  as 
with  sunbeams,  on  every  principle  and  promise  of  the  Gos- 
pel. It  is,  however,  both  overlooked  and  practically  denied 
by  some  who  profess  the  firmest  attachment  to  the  doctrines 
of  grace.  They  even  boast  that  the  divine  law  is  not  bind- 
ing upon  them  as  a  rule  of  life  ;  that  they  are  free  to  live 
as  they  like  ;  that  sin  can  do  them  no  real  injury,  and  that 
God  does  not  see  any  iniquity  in  them !  I  once  heard  one 
of  this  school  declare  from  the  pulpit,  that  if  he  were  to  go 
out  and  commit  a  murder,  the  sin,  although  it  might  bring 
him  to  the  gallows,  would  not  only  not  risk  his  salvation, 
but  it  could  not  for  a  moment  bring  even  the  shadow  of  a 
doubt  upon  his  mind  as  to  the  certainty  of  his  salvation.  In 
this  form,  Antinomianism  is  its  own  antidote,  and  any  thing 
but  a  temptation  to  believers.  This,  however,  is  not  the 
form  which  it  usually  assumes  :  it  comes  before  us  speak- 
ing great  things  of  Christ  and  grace,  and  ascribing  all  the 
glory  of  salvation  to  them  alone.  It  almost  professes  to 
open  the  Lamb's  Book  of  Life,  and  to  read  therein  the  very 
names  of  its  adherents.  It  takes  up  the  case  of  the  weary 
and  heavy-laden  sinner,  and  interprets  all  his  feeling  into 
proofs  of  his  election  and  eternal  justification.  It  goes  into 
all  the  worst  workings  of  the  heart,  and  teaches  those  who 
are  conscious  of  them,  that  they  must  be  the  children  of 
God,  because  they  notice  these  things.  Now,  as  all  the 
truly  serious  are  conscious  of  much  indwelling  sin,  and  of 


THE     HOPE     OF     SALVATION.  77 

many  imperfections  ;  and  as  these  things  often  destroy  or 
damp  their  hope  of  salvation  ;  and  as  they  naturally  wish  to 
feel  assured  of  their  safety ;  it  is  a  strong  temptation  to 
them,  when  any  one  offers  to  prove  their  election  from  the 
very  facts  which  lead  them  to  douht  it.  And  the  proposal 
to  do  so,  is  the  more  plausible,  because  the  pretence  is,  that 
the  sole  design  is  to  exalt  the  Saviour  and  to  humble  the 
sinner — to  glorify  God  and  give  peace  through  the  blood  of 
the  Cross — to  endear  the  everlasting  Covenant,  and  honour 
the  Eternal  Spirit,  All  this  is  so  like  the  glorious  Gospel, 
and  embraces  so  much  of  its  grand  design,  that  one  can 
hardly  think  of  suspecting  its  truth  or  its  tendency.  And 
as  the  truly  serious  do  not  intend  to  apply  this  offered  re- 
lief to  any  bad  purpose,  but  merely  to  get  over  their  doubts 
and  fears  by  it ;  and  as  they  wish  for  no  liberty  to  sin — 
this  easy  and  speedy  way  of  reaching  assm-ance  becomes 
very  tempting  to  them,  especially  if  they  are  under  a  min- 
istry which  does  not  clearly  show  them  "  a  better  way." 
For  the  fact  is,  an  awakened  conscience  and  a  wounded 
spirit  will  seek  relief  somewhere  ;  and,  if  they  do  not  find 
it  in  low  doctrinal  sentiments,  they  will  grasp  at  it  in  high, 
and  take  it  from  any  thing  rather  than  sink  into  despair.  If, 
therefore,  they  find  that  the  ministry  which  has  wounded, 
does  not  heal  them,  or  that  it  makes  salvation  by  faith  ap- 
pear quite  as  difficult  to  obtain  as  salvation  by  works  would 
be,  and  thus  brings  them  no  nearer  to  their  object ;  it  is  no 
wonder  if  they  try  another  ministry,  and  even  welcome  one 
which  turns  their  doubts  and  perplexities,  as  well  as  their 
desires,  into  proofs  of  faith,  and  tokens  of  safety. 

It  is  in  this  way  that  many  are  drawn  into  Antinomian 
principles.  Their  object,  at  first  was  chiefly  to  get  hold  of 
something  which  would  give  rest  to  their  souls ;  and,  as 
that  kind  of  preaching  which  makes  saving  faith  appear 
quite  as  impossible  as  perfect  obedience,  did  not  relieve 
them,  but  rather  tantalized  them  by  a  remedy  which  whilst 
it  was  called  free,  was  kept  back  until  their  works  should 
demonstrate  their  faith,  they  were  glad  to  grasp  at  any  thing 
■7* 


78  THE    HOPE     OF     SALVATION. 

which  promised  speedier  relief.  Accordingly,  when  they 
were  assured  that  their  fears  and  desires,  and  even  their 
very  doubts,  were  the  work  of  the  Spirit  in  them  ;  and  that 
his  work  121  the  soul  is  the  warrant  to  believe  that  the  death 
of  Christ  and  the  decree  of  God  were  for  the  soul ; — this 
nostrum  met  all  their  difficulties.  For  as  they  could  say, 
with  perfect  truth,  that  they  felt  and  desired,  under  the 
Gospel,  as  they  had  never  done  before  ;  and  as  this  state  of 
mind  was  declared  to  be  the  effect  of  Divine  influence,  and 
thus  a  proof  of  their  election  and  redemption ; — such  doc- 
trine might  well  please  them.  But,  at  this  stage  of  their 
experience,  the  Gospel  itself  would  have  pleased  them  bet- 
ter, if  it  had  been  as  plainly  brought  before  them ;  because, 
then,  they  were  in  search  of  nothing  but  the  hope  of  salva- 
tion, and  wanted  no  relief  from  the  rules,  but  only  from  the 
curse,  of  the  law.  Had  they,  therefore,  been  directed,  at 
that  moment,  to  the  Divine  Testimony  concerning  the  per- 
son and  work  of  Christ ;  and  had  they  been  shown  clearly, 
from  the  Scriptures,  that  the  cordial  belief  of  that  testimony 
is  saving  faith  ;  and  that  faith  itself  warrants  immediate 
hope  ;  this  would  have  met  all  their  difficulties,  without  lay- 
ing asleep  their  watchfulness,  or  their  fear  of  sin> 

Well :  you  see  all  this,  if  you  have  taken  up  the  hope  of 
salvation  at  the  Cross  simply  by  relying  on  Christ  for  it. 
You  have,  therefore,  no  occasion  to  meddle  with  the  un- 
scriptural  nostrums  of  those  who  put  the  work  of  the  Spirit 
in  the  room  of  the  work  of  Christ,  and  give  that  place  to 
election  which  the  Cross  alone  occupies  in  the  Gospel. 
You  have  no  occasion  to  shift  the  position  of  things  in  the 
"  well  ordered"  Covenant,  before  you  can  enter  into  the  ark 
of  it.  "  Ye  have  not  so  learned  Christ,"  from  these  pages, 
as  to  feel  it  necessary  to  have  another  Avarrant  than  the 
Word  of  God,  for  believing  on  Christ  for  your  own  justifica- 
tion. Whatever  comfort  you  want,  you  can  find  it  more 
readily,  and  more  abundantly  in  the  single  fact,  "  that  he 
who  believeth  hath  eternal  life,"  than  in  all  the  boasted 
consolations  of  Antinomianism^ — the  very  first  principle  of 


DEVOTIONAL     SELF-EXAMINATION.  79 

which  is  wrong,  inasmuch  as  it  substitutes  feelings  for 
faith.  And  whenever  you  want  to  see  the  grand  fallacy 
and  infamy  of  this  system,  you  have  only  to  observe  that 
the  very  first  promise  of  that  new  Covenant,  which  it  pre- 
tends to  venerate  so  much,  is  at  utter  and  eternal  variance 
with  the  rejection  of  the  law  as  a  rule  of  life.  That  first 
promise  is,  "  /  will  put  my  laws  in  their  hearts^  and  write 
thejn  in  their  minds,  saith  the  Lord ;"  a  fact  which  is  fatal  to 
all  unholy  applications  of  the  doctrines  of  grace.  In  a 
word,  real  Antinomianism  is  the  hope  of  a  salvation  from 
that  holy  salvation,  which  is  "  the  end"  of  election,  redemp- 
tion, and  regeneration. 


No.  VIII. 

DEVOTIONAL      SELF-EXAMINATION. 

No  man  knows  himself,  who  is  not  in  the  habit  of  exam- 
ining \i\m.%e[{  \  and  no  man  examines  himself  impartially, 
who  does  not  place  himself  under  the  omniscient  eye  of 
God,  and  thus  invite  and  submit  to  divine  scrutiny.  Our 
hearts  are  too  deep  to  be  fathomed  by  our  conscience,  and 
too  deceitful  to  be  unmasked  by  our  judgment.  Indeed, 
the  heart  can  blind  and  pervert  both  the  judgment  and  the 
conscience.  Hence  the  necessity  of  carrying  the  whole 
soul  to  be  searched  and  tried  by  God,  even  after  all  our 
efforts  to  examine  ourselves  :  for,  until  we  are  alone  and 
upon  our  knees  before  the  Searcher  of  hearts,  we  are  both 
liable  and  sure  to  impose  on  ourselves.  We  may,  indeed, 
know,  from  observation  and  experience,  what  is  our  weak 
side,  or  our  besetting  sin,  and  thus  have  a  general  idea  of 
our  real  character  ;  but  how  weak  that  side  is,  or  how 
strong  that  sin  is,  we  are  not  fully  aware,  until  we  look  at 
them  in  the  light  of  God.  Accordingly  we  have  found 
ihem  to  be  greater,  and  have  been  betrayed  by  them  oftener. 


80  DEVOTIONAL     SELF-EXAMINATION. 

than  we  suspected  at  first.  They  have  carried  us  farther 
than  we  calculated  upon,  and  led  us  into  more  wrong  steps 
than  we  anticipated,  at  first.  Yes ;  and  both  our  weak 
side  and  our  besetting  sin,  if  left  to  themselves,  are  quite 
capable  of  hurrying  us  as  much  beyond  any  evil  which  we 
now  fear,  as  they  were  of  drawing  us  into  those  evils 
which  we  now  deplore.  For,  what  our  hearts  are  thus  led 
to  by  their  own  propensities,  is  only  a  specimen  of  the 
direction,  rather  than  of  the  lengths,  they  are  inclined  to 
go,  when  allowed  to  take  their  own  way.  Now,  if  we 
must  say  already,  that  our  hearts  have  gone  too  far  astray  ; 
and  if  we  believe  that  they  are  naturally  "  deceitful  above 
all  things,  and  desperately  wicked ;"  it  is  high  time  to  take 
measures  for  the  prevention  and  cure  of  their  evil  tenden- 
cies. And,  for  these  purposes,  the  habit  of  self-examination 
in  the  sight  of  the  omniscient  God,  is  equally  necessary 
and  useful. 

David  furnishes  an  example  of  this  devotional  habit, 
which  will  illustrate  at  once  these  introductory  hints.  He 
was  an  attentive  observer  and  scrutinizer  of  himself,  espe- 
cially after  his  restoration  to  the  Divine  favour.  From  that 
time,  his  "  soul"  was,  as  it  were,  "  continually  in  his  hand  ;" 
his  "  spirit  made  diligent  search  ;  he  communed"  with  his 
own  heart  even  "  upon  his  bed,"  and  considered  his  ways. 
Now,  this  was  self-examination,  in  the  ordinary  sense  of 
the  duty  ;  but  he  did  not  stop  there.  He  knew  and  be- 
lieved the  deceitfulness  of  his  heart  too  well,  to  trust  its 
verdict  in  his  own  cause  ;  and,  therefore,  followed  up  his 
own  scrutiny  by  praying,  "  Search  me,  O  God,  and  know 
my  heart ;  try  me  and  know  my  thoughts  ;  and  see  if  there 
be  any  wicked  way  in  me,  and  lead  me  in  the  way  ever- 
lasting." Thus,  that  there  might  be  no  deception,  he  sol- 
emnly put  his  case  into  the  hands,  and  under  the  eye,  of 
God.  This  was  impartial,  because  devotional,  self-exami- 
nation. 

Having  referred  to  this  example,  as  an  illustration  of  the 
subject,  it  may  be  well  to  glance  at  the  principles  of  it. 


DEVOTIONAL     SELF-EXAMINATION.  81 

Now,  the  prayer,  "  Search  me  and  try  me,"  recognises,  as 
an  unquestionable  truth,  the  omniscience  of  Jehovah,  and 
proceeds  upon  the  solemn  fact,  that  "  all  things  are  naked 
and  open  to  the  eyes  of  Him  with  whom  they  have  to  do." 
It  was,  however,  by  realizing  the  scrutiny  of  this  omnis- 
cience in  his  own  case,  that  David  understood  how  it  ex- 
tended to  all  creatures,  times,  and  places.  "  Thou  hast 
searched  and  known  mg,"  is  the  point  from  which  he  start- 
ed, in  his  way  to  the  sublime  and  awful  conclusion,  "  The 
darkness  and  the  light  are  both  alike  to  Thee."  And  the 
conclusion  is  just ;  for  if  David's  hearts  in  all  its  recesses, 
was  naked  and  open  unto  God,  all  hearts  and  all  things 
must  be  equally  visible  to  Him  ;  because  the  power  which 
can  search  one,  can  search  all ;  and  the  reason  for  search- 
ing any  heart,  holds  good  in  the  case  of  all  hearts.  God 
is  the  Judge  of  all ;  and,  as  the  secrets  of  every  hean 
will  be  brought  into  judgment,  none  can  escape  his  notice. 
Each  may,  therefore,  say  to  himself,  "iorJ,  thou  hast 
searched  and  known  me  ;"  others  may  guess  what  I  am,  from 
what  I  seem  ;  and  argue  from  what  my  life  is,  what  my 
heart  must  be  :  "  hut  lo,  O  Lord,  thou  knowest  it  altogether ;'' 
thou  art  not  deceived,  nor  at  any  loss,  whoever  may  be  so ! 
Now  with  this  solemn  conviction  clinging  to  him  like  his 
shadow — why  did  David  pray  thus,  "  Search  me,  0  God, 
and  know  my  heart ;  try  me,  and  know  my  thoughts  ?"  He 
had  just  acknowledged  that  God  had  done  so  already,  and 
fully  ;  for  he  does  not  say.  Search  me  more  than  thou  hast 
ever  done.  The  reason  is  obvious  :  God  searches  all ;  but 
he  does  not  lead  all  "  in  the  ^ay  everlasting."  Some  are 
given  up  to  their  own  hearts'  lusts,  and  thus  led  captive  by 
the  devil,  at  his  will,  when  they  refuse  to  be  led  by  the 
Spirit.  David  knew  this  :  and,  as  his  object  was  to  walk 
in  the  way  of  salvation,  his  prayer  was,  that  he  might  be 
so  searched  as  to  escape  every  "  wicked  way."  And  there 
t^  a  special  and  gracious  searching  of  the  heart,  the  results 
of  which  God  shows  to  them  who  fear  Him  ;  thus  dis- 
covering to  them,  what  he  discovers  in  them.     Not,  indeed, 


S2  DEVOTIONAL     SELF-EXAMINATION. 

that  He  shows  them  at  once  all  that  he  sees  in  them :  the 
most  holy  could  not  sustain  the  full  sight  of  all  the  plagues 
of  their  own  hearts.  God,  therefore,  reveals  them  gradu- 
ally to  his  people,  that  the  appalling  sight  may  not  over- 
whelm their  hopes  of  sanctification.  He  does,  however, 
show  so  much,  from  time  to  time,  as  to  convince  believers 
that  their  own  hearts  are  not  to  be  trusted,  even  to  their 
own  examination ;  but  require,  in  order  to  be  upright  in  all 
things,  to  be  searched  by  the  eye  of  Omniscience. 

Now,  it  is  a  good  sign,  when  we  are  afraid  of  self-decep- 
tion, and  court  the  scrutiny  of  God  ;  when  we  are  willing 
to  know  the  worst  of  our  own  case,  and  desirous  to  judge 
impartially ;  and  when  for  this  purpose,  we  call  in  the  eye 
of  God  to  search  us.  For,  by  thus  examining  ourselves, 
and  submitting  to  Divine  examination.  Believers  are  distin- 
guished. 

First,  From  the  Formalist,  who  takes  no  notice  of  the 
state  of  his  heart  in  religion.  It  is  indeed,  strange,  that 
any  can  be  so  infatuated,  as  to  forget  the  necessity  of  wor- 
shipping a  Spirit,  "  in  spirit  and  in  truth  :"  but,  alas  !  it  is 
forgotten  and  overlooked.  Many,  like  the  Jews  of  old,  go 
to  the  sanctuary  of  God,  and  "  sit  as  his  people  sit,  and 
hear  as  they  hear ;  but  their  hearts  are  far  from  him." 
This  is  no  sweeping  charge  :  for,  if  their  hearts  were 
"  right  with  God,"  they  would  worship  him  at  home  as  well 
as  in  the  sanctuary  ;  and  in  the  sanctuary  by  sacraments,  as 
well  as  by  prayer  or  praise.  But  how  few  compass  the 
family  or  sacramental  altar,  or  retire  to  pray  in  secret  to 
Him  who  seeth  in  secret !  %k\\  this  may,  indeed,  be  done, 
by  mere  formalists  ;  but,  when  all  this  is  neglected,  there 
certainly  is  none  of  the  "  power"  of  godliness,  nor  any 
habit  of  self-examination.  It  is,  therefore,  a  good  sign, 
when  the  claims  of  all  duties  are  seriously  weighed,  and 
the  state  of  the  heart  towards  and  in  them  is  chiefly  re- 
garded.    This  distinguishes  Believers. 

Secondly,  From  the  Rkcklkss  Professor,  who  dare  not 
search  his  own  heart.     Some  have  the  hardihood  to  con- 


DEVOTIONAL    SELF-EXAMINATION.  83 

tinue  at  the  sacrament,  even  after  they  have  discovered  that 
their  convictions  were  not  conversion,  nor  their  first  reso- 
lutions, principles.  They  depart  from  their  closets  and  give 
up  the  power  of  godliness  ;  but  there  is  no  departure  from 
the  Lord's  table.  Conscience  says  to  them,  "  Keep  back, 
or  begin  on  new  principles  ;"  and  thus,  like  Balaam's  angel, 
waves  a  drawn  sword  between  them  and  a  sacram.ent  for 
which  they  have  no  relish.  But  Pride  says,  "  Keep  your 
place  and  your  name  ;  defeat  suspicion,  by  defying  it ;  keep 
up  appearances,  whatever  it  cost,  for  it  is  too  mortifying  to 
expose  yourself  by  your  own  act  of  withdrawing !"  Now, 
in  such  a  case,  the  heart  dare  not  examine  itself  before 
God,  but  is  afraid  of  its  own  whispers,  and  conscious  that 
a  full  disclosure  of  its  secrets,  even  to  itself,  would  be  al- 
most as  humiliating  as  the  exposure  of  them  to  others.  Thus, 
the  matter  will  not  bear  thinking  of,  and  therefore  appear- 
ances are  kept  up  at  all  hazards,  by  shutting  the  eyes  upon 
the  hazards. 

This  fearful  state  of  mind  must  not,  however,  be  con- 
founded with  those  occasional  misgivings  of  heart,  which 
the  serious  feel  in  regard  to  the  reality  of  their  own  conver- 
sion, and  their  right  to  the  sacrament.  There  is  an  immense 
difference  between  habitual  recklessness,  and  occasional 
disrelish;  especially  when  the  want  of  relish  is  deeply 
deplored,  and  the  causes  of  it  are  searched  out.  All  is  not 
wrong,  while  self-examination  is  kept  up,  and  while  what 
is  wrong  is  dreaded  and  hated.  Like  an  erring  but  affec- 
tionate child,  a  believer  may  feel  himself  in  disgrace  ;  but, 
while  he  feels  out  of  his  element,  and  is  trying  to  return 
into  his  rest,  his  case  is  not  hopeless,  because  it  is  not 
heartless  nor  heedless.  In  like  manner,  the  habit  of  self- 
examination  in  the  presence  of  God  distinguishes  its  adhe- 
rents. 

Thirdly,  From  the  Inconsistent  Professor,  who  is  un- 
willing to  be  led  out  of  every  "  wicked  way."  David  prayed 
thus  : — "  See  if  there  be  any  wicked  way  in  me,  and  lead 
mc  in  the  way  everlasting."     Thus  he  was  so  jealous  of  his 


84  DEVOTIONAL   SELF-EXAMINATION. 

heart,  that  he  suspected  that  some  wicked  way  would  be 
overlooked,  unless  God  prevented  it.  Now,  this  is  the 
grand  characteristic  of  "  faith  unfeigned :"  it  is  impartial, 
and  willing  to  be  kept  back  from  all  sin.  A  real  Christian 
may,  indeed,  feel  a  strong  bias  to  some  of  his  old  sins,  and 
a  shri'i^king  from  some  duties  ;  and,  alas  !  for  a  time  he  may 
even  risk  the  experiment  of  serving  "  two  masters"  by  turns  ; 
but  when  he  finds — which  he  soon  does  by  bitter  experience, 
— that  half  mesiSUYes  will  not  do,  and  that  a  divided  heart 
misses  enjoyment  in  religion,  and  that  yielding  to  tempta- 
tion or  sloth  is  destruction  to  hope  and  peace — he  is  glad  to 
retrace  his  steps  to  the  narrow  way  again,  and  to  yield  him- 
self unreservedly  to  God  and  duty.  Now,  although  this  is 
not  done  without  a  struggle,  nor  always  soon — it  is  done, 
eventually,  by  all  who  are  attentive  to  their  own  hearts,  and 
to  the  baneful  influence  of  inconsistencies  upon  them.  I'he 
self-examining  believer  determines  to  be  consistent  whatever 
it  costs  in  effort  or  sacrifice.  He  Avould  rather  suffer,  than 
sin  against  God  and  a  good  conscience.  Now,  this  high 
and  holy  tone  of  gracious  principle  and  godly  practice,  is 
acquired  chiefly  by  scrutinizing  the  heart  in  the  presence 
of  God.  It  is  not  acquired  from  the  social  intercourse  of 
Christian  friends,  nor  even  from  heart-searching  sermons  : 
these,  indeed,  suggest  the  necessity  of  self-examination,  and 
are  the  chief  means  of  leading  to  it ;  but  it  is  in  the  act  of 
devotional  examination,  that  God  shows  with  "  power"  what 
is  wrong,  and  with  "  glory"  what  is  right.  Accordingly,  it 
was  in  the  closet,  and  whilst  retired  within  ourselves,  and 
whilst  realizing  the  presence  of  God,  and  whilst  looking  at 
all  sin  in  the  light  of  eternity — it  was  whilst  thus  engaged, 
that  every  sin,  fault,  and  wrong  habit,  rose  before  us  in 
hideous  and  horrid  deformity !  Then  we  wept,  and  won- 
dered that  we  ever  tlioutrht  lightly  of  "  nny  wicked  way;" 
and  felt  our  souls  swelling  up  in  holy  indignation  against 
all  vice  and  vanity. 

And,  by  the  same  process,  we  acquired  those  clear  and 
aff'ecting  views  of  the  way  of  holiness,  which  won  us  into  it. 


DEVOTIONAL   SELF-EXAMINATION.  85 

Whilst  Ave  looked  at  "  the  narrow  way,"  in  the  company  of 
those  who  shim  it,  or  in  the  light  of  worldly  maxims,  we 
thought  it  too  narrow,  and  saw  many  lions  in  the  way,  and 
felt  as  if  it  were  impossible  to  walk  in  it :  but  when  we  re- 
tired to  our  closets,  and  betook  ourselves  to  prayer,  that  we 
might  examine  and  weigh  these  mingled  feelings  and  ob- 
jections, which  looked  so  formidable  in  company — the  path 
of  holiness  expanded  before  us  as  it  really  is — guarded  by 
eternal  Providence,  gilded  with  great  and  precious  promises, 
graced  by  the  presence  of  many  illustrious  pilgrims,  glorious [« 
with  the  footsteps  of  the  Saviour  himself,  and  terminating; 
directly  in  the  heaven  of  heavens.  We  saw,  also,  that  none 
sank  on  "  the  way  everlasting,"  nor  perished  at  the  end  of 
it,  who  kept  in  it ;  and  that  those  were  happiest  who  ad- 
hered to  it  most  strictly  ;  and  that  all  were  ruined  who  for- 
sook it ;  and,  between  this  twofold  "  cloud  of  witnesses," 
we  resolved  to  follow  holiness.  Thus,  we  have  often  come 
from  our  closets,  saying  to  ourselves,  "  Let  whoever  will, 
try  dangerous  experiments,  the  example  of  the  Saviour  shall 
be  our  guiding  pillar  of  cloud  by  day,  and  of  fire  by  night : 
our  hearts  are  '  fixed'  by  searching,  and  we  will  '  follow  the 
Lamb  in  the  path  of  regeneration.' " 

It  is  thus  that  the  habit  of  devotional  self-examination  sets 
and  keeps  both  sin  and  duty  in  their  true  light.  It  is,  how- 
ever, wanted  for  other  purposes.  Accordingly,  God  says, 
"  Examine  yourselves,  whether  ye  be  in  the  faith ;  prove 
your  ownselves  ;  know  ye  not  your  ownselves,  how  that 
Christ  is  in  you,  except  ye  be  reprobates :"  that  is,  without 
proof  of  the  Saviour's  presence.  The  word  "  Reprobates" 
is  not  used  here  in  the  modern  sense.  It  means  now,  in 
common  language,  "  reckless  profligates,"  or  "  abandoned 
sinners  ;"  and  is  suspected  by  some,  who  judge  the  sense 
from  the  sound  of  it,  to  countenance  the  doctrine  of  Repro- 
hation,  as  they  call  it.  They  mean  by  that,  the  ruin  and 
loss  of  the  soul  by  the  sovereign  decree  of  God  ; — a  doctrine 
not  even  breathed  in  the  Bible.  What  it  teaches,  is,  the 
judicial  reprobation  of  those  who  weary  out  the  patience  of 
8 


86  DEVOTIONAL    SELF-EXAMINATION. 

God  by  impenitence  and  rebellion.  Such  he  abandons 
eventually  to  a  reprobate  mind,  and  to  a  seared  conscience, 
and  to  their  own  heart's  lusts  ;  and  thus  to  ruin.  But  the 
ruin  comes  not  from  a  sovereign  decree,  but  from  the  sen- 
tence of  the  law  and  the  sanctions  of  the  Gospel.  This  is 
the  real  state  of  the  case  ;  and  therefore  a  man  is  not  a 
reprobate  in  this  sense,  even  if  he  is  not  in  the  faith  yet, 
and  although  Christ  is  not  in  him.  I  mean,  that  he  is  not, 
on  that  account,  decreed  to  ruin,  nor  given  up  by  God.  All 
unbelievers  are,  indeed,  condemned  already ;  but  it  is  be- 
cause of  unbelief,  and  not  beyond  redemption. 

This  being  understood,  the  most  timid  have  no  occasion 
to  shrink  from  examining  themselves  by  the  test  applied  to 
the  Corinthians ;  for  even  if  you  should  not  be  able .  to 
prove,  to  your  own  satisfaction,  that  you  are  in  the  faith, 
nor  that  Christ  is  in  you — still,  whilst  Christ  is  upon  the 
throne  of  grace,  and  whilst  faith  is  the  gift  of  God,  your 
case  is  not  hopeless.  This,  however,  is  but  the  lowest 
view  of  the  case.  Those  who  are  in  real  earnest  to  be 
found  in  Christ,  are  not  utter  strangers  either  to  the  exer- 
cise of  faith  or  to  the  indwelling  of  Christ  in  the  heart. 
They  may  be  afraid  to  call  their  own  believing  faith  ;  and 
may  not  understand  the  precise  meaning  of  Christ's  indwel- 
ling presence  :  but  it  does  not  follow,  from  these  mistakes, 
that  they  are  without  proofs  of  faith  or  love.  They  have 
often  more  proofs  of  both  than  they  imaiiine,  or  are  aware 
of,  until  they  examine  themselves. — Now,  so  may  you. 
The  first  sight  of  the  question,  "  Am  I  in  the  faith  ?  may 
startle  you;  because,  knowing  faith  to  be  the  point  on 
which  salvation  turns,  and  feeling  your  own  un worthiness 
of  so  great  a  salvation,  your  are  afraid  to  say  "  Yes."  But, 
observe  : — you  are  equally  afraid  to  say  '*  iVo."  You  leave 
the  question  unanswered  in  words  ;  but  you  continue  to  act 
as  if  you  were  "  in  the  faith."  You  do  not  cease  to  hope, 
even  when  you  hesitate  to  say  that  you  believe.  You  even 
strive  to  live  as  a  believer,  although  you  do  not  venture  to 
assume  the  name.     Yea,  more  ;  no  one  could  persuade  you 


DEVOTIONAL    SELF-EXAMINATION.  87 

to  give  up  your  habits  of  looking  to,  and  leaning  upon,  the 
Saviour.  You  shrink  with  horror  from  the  bare  idea  of 
disowning  or  deserting  him.  You  have  no  wish  to  forsake 
him  ;  and  when  you  feel  tempted  to  do  so,  your  unfeigned 
answer  is,  "Lord,  to  whom  shall  I  go?  Thou  only  hast 
the  words  of  eternal  life."  Accordingly,  since  you  saw 
your  need  of  an  interest  in  his  blood,  and  felt  the  value  of 
salvation,  you  have  been  unwilling  and  unable  to  forget 
Christ. — Thoughts  of  him,  and  desires  after  him,  have  fol- 
lowed you  like  your  shadow,  more  or  less  every  day  ;  and 
nothing  would  please  you  more  than  to  be  able  to  think 
and  feel  in  regard  to  him,  as  you  wish. 

Well ;  this  being  the  case,  you  cannot  begin  too  soon  to 
"  examine"  whether  you  "  be  in  the  faith  ;"  for  the  result 
is  sure  to  be  favourable.  Yes  ;  examination  in  the  sight 
of  God  will  discover  to  you,  that  it  has  been  given  to  you, 
on  behalf  of  Christ,  to  believe  on  him  with  the  heart  unto 
salvation.  But  nothing  else  wall  discover  this,  to  your  per- 
manent satisfaction.  You  may  gather,  from  these  marks  of 
faith,  a  general  idea  that  you  are  in  the  faith  ;  but  the  con- 
clusion, even  if  just,  will  not  last  long.  It  must  be  drawn 
upon  your  knees,  and  with  your  heart  bared  to  ttie  inspec- 
tion of  God,  if  you  would  have  it  lasting.  And,  in  his  pres- 
ence, as  in  the  prospect  of  death,  the  question,  "  Arn  I  in 
the  faith .?"  is  fairly  met.  The  soul  dare  not  trifle  nor 
equivocate,  when  placed  under  the  eye  of  Omniscience  ; 
but  must  go  fully  into  the  inquiry.  It  spreads  and  pours 
itself  out,  all  over  the  question.  And  when,  in  this  light, 
it  is  seen  that  the  cordial  belief  of  the  Gospel,  for  holy  pur- 
poses, is  saving  faith  ;  and  when  it  is  felt,  through  all  the 
soul,  that  we  do  believe  its  truth,  and  love  its  holiness  ; — 
our  satisfaction  is  unspeakable !  For  then,  we  know  and 
feel  persuaded  that  we  are  not  flattering  ourselves,  nor  judg- 
ing rashly.  The  whole  matter  is  so  fully  laid  before  God, 
and  Gud  is  so  fully  before  our  minds,  that  self-deception 
seems  impossible.  We  have  "the  witness"  in  ourselves, 
that,  like  the  first  believers,  we  "  gladly  receive"  the  Gos- 


88  THE     TEMPTATIONS     AND 

pel.  We  are,  indeed,  amazed,  and  thrown  into  almost 
breathless  silence,  during  these  hallowed  moments,  to  find 
that  believing  is  faith,  and  that  faith  itself  warrants  the 
hope  of  salvation  there  and  then.  But  we  do  find  all  this 
to  be  true  !  All  our  recollections,  both  of  the  letter  and 
spirit  of  the  Scriptures,  rush  in  to  confirm  it.  The  whole 
Bible  rises  before  us  as  one  brilliant  and  unbroken  illustra- 
tion of  the  grand  fact — that  salvation  "  is  of  faith,  that  it 
might  be  by  grace."  And,  having  seen  all  this  in  the  light 
of  the  Divine  presence,  we  retire  from  our  closets  with  the 
old  apostolic  melody  in  our  hearts  and  lips,  "  Therefore, 
being  justified  hy  faiths  We  have  peace  with  God" 


No.  IX. 

THE    TEMPTATIONS    AND     FIERY    DARTS     OF    SATAN. 

Amongst  those  words  with  which  the  truly  serious  as- 
sociate the  most  awful  and  alarming  ideas,  the  word  Tempt- 
ation is  one  of  the  chief.  And  well  it  may  make  every 
ear  tingle,  and  every  heart  tremble  !  Temptation  is,  indeed, 
thought  of,  and  spoken  of,  lightly,  by  the  bulk  of  mankind  : 
but  this  is  no  proof  that  they  who  do  so  arc  superior  to  it, 
or  that  they  resist  it.  Many  strong  men — yea,  many 
mighty  men — have  fallen  by  it.  Men  !  yea,  angels,  have 
been  overthrown  by  it  in  the  very  heaven  of  heavens. 
Even  their  immortal  powers  and  celestial  advantages  were 
not  a  sufficient  balance  to  the  weight  of  temptation.  Like 
H  serpent,  it  wound  itself  around  the  pillars  of  their  thrones 
of  light,  coiled  its  folds  upon  their  harps  of  gold,  crept  into 
their  bosom ;  and  having  thus  drawn  aside  a  third  part  of 
the  stars  of  heaven,  it  hurled  them,  at  one  sweep,  into  "the 
blackness  of  darkness  for  ever."  The  man,  therefore,  who 
thinks  so  lightly  of  temptation  as  not  to  be  afraid   of  it, 


FIERYDARTSOFSATAN.  89 

ought  to  place  himself,  in  idea,  amongst  those  once  "morn- 
ing stars,"  whilst  they  shone  around  the  eternal  throne  as 
emanations  of  the  Father  of  lights,  and  served  him  day  and 
night  without  weariness  :  and  whilst  witnessing  them  sing- 
ing and  shining  in  their  bright  orbits,  and  all  linked  unto 
God  as  if  they  had  been  rays  of  his  glory  ;  he  would  then 
see  and  feel  what  strength,  what  motives,  what  innocence, 
temptation  could  overmatch  and  overwhelm.  And  then, 
let  him  look  to  the  dark  and  desolate  orbits  of  those  falling 
morning  stars  ;  to  their  present  chains  of  darkness,  and  to 
their  future  prospects  :  and  if,  after  this  survey  of  heaven 
and  hell,  he  is  still  not  afraid  of  temptation,  he  must  surely 
suspect  that  he  is  less  than  a  man,  or  fancy  himself  to  be 
more  than  an  angel. 

All  this,  hov/ever,  althougli  the  strongest,  is  not  the  most 
affecting  light  in  which  to  view  our  own  danger  from  tempt- 
ation. Which  of  the  mightiest  human  names  has  not 
temptation  left  a  stain  and  a  stigma  upon  ?  Noah  ? — Ah, 
you  recollect  his  wine.  Abraham  ? — His  equivocation. 
Moses  ? — His  impatience.  Aaron  ? — His  unbelief.  Jacob  ? 
— His  stratagem.  The  Patriarchs  ? — Their  treatment  of 
Joseph.  Elijah? — His  murmuring.  David? — His  fall. 
Hezekiah  ? — His  ostentation.  Jonah  ? — His  rebellion. 
Peter  ? — His  denial  of  Christ.  And  if  these  mighty  men 
fell,  let  him  that  standeth  take  heed  lest  he  fall  also.  Let 
not  him  that  putteth  on  the  harness,  boast  himself  as  he  who 
putteth  it  off.  We  shall  not  be  fully  beyond  the  reach  of 
all  danger,  until  we  are  fairl}^  through  the  valley  of  the 
shadow  of  death ;  for  even  in  it,  the  fiery  darts  of  Satan 
sometimes  fly  thick,  ;ind  flash  dreadfully.  Only  when  we 
are  "  clean  over"  the  swellings  of  Jordan,  will  there  be 
"  nothing"  in  us  for  Satan  to  work  upon. 

Were,  indeed,  simplicity  of  heart,  and  gi-acious  prin- 
ciples, preventives,  or  absolute  safeguards,  against  all 
temptations,  some  might  escape  ;  but  even  innocence^  in 
Eden,  was  not  an  effectual  shield  against  the  fiery  darts  of 
Satan.  Innocence !  even  incarnate  divinity,  was  not  ex- 
8* 


90  THE     TEiAIPTATIONS     AND 

empt  from  assault,  though  superior  to  seduction ;  for  the 
Saviour  was  assailed  and  harassed  by  Satan,  until  his  hu- 
man nature  required  angels  to  minister  unto  its  exhausted 
strength. 

Some  who  readily  subscribe  to  the  truth  of  all  this,  do  it 
for  a  bad  purpose,  and  argue  thus  : — "  If  such  men  fell,  we 
cannot  be  expected  to  stand  always,  nor  to  exceed  them  in 
resisting  the  devil."  But  this  is  mere  sophistry  and  self- 
deception  ;  for  those  who  fell,  fell  by  no  necessity  but  what 
they  themselves  created.  Satan  has  power  to  say,  "  Cast 
thyself  down !"  but  he  has  not  power  to  throw  down  any 
one  who  is  doing  "  all  to  stand."  Had  Noah  been  as 
watchful  after  planting  a  vineyard,  as  before,  he  would  not 
have  fallen  by  wine.  Had  David  made  and  kept  such  "  a 
covenant  with  his  eyes"  as  Job  did,  he  would  not  have  cov- 
eted his  "neighbour's  wife."  Had  Peter  confined  himself 
to  the  company  of  his  fellow-disciples,  he  would  not  have 
been  in  the  same  danger  of  denying  his  Master  with  oaths., 
as  when  he  mingled  with  the  enemies  of  Christ.  Besides, 
one  chief  cause  of  the  fall  of  these,  otherwise,  good  men, 
was  that  they  evidently  never  allowed  themselves  to  sus- 
pect that  they  were  in  danger  of  falling  by  such  tempta- 
tions. It  is  highly  probable,  that  had  any  one  warned 
them  against  the  sins  which  overcame  them,  each  of  them 
would  have  said,  "  Is  thy  servant  a  dog  that  he  should  do 
this  thing  ?"  Thus,  there  are  two  things  necessary,  in  or- 
der to  resist  temptation  successfully  ; — doing  all  to  stand, 
and  being  afraid  of  falling ;  for  if  we  are  not  afraid  of  fal- 
ling, we  shall  not  take  unto  ourselves  "  the  whole  armour  of 
God,"  that  we  may  be  "  able  to  stand." 

Amongst  those  temptations  of  Satan  to  which  we  are 
chiefly  exposed,  and  which  aro  emphatically  his  "  fiery 
darts,"  one  is,  the  temptation  to  Atheism  or  Infidelity. 
Now,  whenever  the  horrid  suspicion  that  there  is  "no 
God,"  or  that  the  Bible  is  not  to  be  depended  on,  comes  in 
like  a  flood  upon  the  mind,  it  is  a  fiery  dart  of  Satan  ;  and 
he  alone  has  the  guill  of  it,  whilst  the   mind  hates  or  de- 


riERY     DARTS     OF     SATAN.  91 

plores  it.  Unless,  indeed,  M'e  have  been  exposing  our- 
selves by  reading  skeptical  books,  and  listening  to  scorners  ; 
then,  the  guilt  of  infidel  thoughts  is  chiefly  our  own.  But 
when  they  are  thrown  into  the  soul,  unsought  and  unawares, 
and  thrown  after  the  soul  when  it  is  retreating  from  them, 
— the  archer,  and  not  the  "  wounded  spirit,"  is  the  criminal, 
in  that  case.  We  are  personally  accountable  only  for  those 
temptations  which  we  court,  connive  at,  or  yield  to.  The 
Saviour  was  tempted  of  the  devil  to  impatience,  presump- 
tion, and  idolatry ;  but  as  he  had  not  exposed  himself  to 
these  fiery  darts,  and  did  not  yield  to  them,  but  repelled 
them,  he  Avas  nowise  accountable  for  them. 

This  distinction  is  strongly  stated ;  but  it  is  wanted,  in 
all  its  strength,  when  the  mind  is  overwhelmed  by  distract- 
ing doubts  of  the  being  of  God  or  the  truth  of  Revelation. 
In  that  case,  it  seems  to  ourselves  improbable,  if  not  im- 
possible, that  we  had  ever  believed  "  with  the  heart ;"  see- 
ing, that  now,  we  are  almost  ready  to  give  up  faith  in  God, 
and  to  regard  all  things  as  a  chaos  of  mere  chance  !  We 
argue  thus  :  "  Surely,  if  I  had  been  taught  by  the  Spirit  of 
God,  and  at  all  renewed  in  the  spirit  of  my  own  mind,  I 
should  be  incapable  of  harbouring  or  starting  such  atheisti- 
cal thoughts.  They  would  not  surely  come  into  '  a  new 
heart.'  Are  they  not  symptoms  of  a  reprobate  mind  ?" 
This,  however,  is  a  mistake  ;  they  are  "  the  fiery  darts"  of 
Satan,  and  not  the  real  sentiments  of  our  own  minds.  Ac- 
cordingly, we  do  not  think  these  doubts  well-founded.  We 
do  not  wish  them  to  be  true.  Nothing  would  pain  us  so 
much  as  finding  that  there  was  no  God,  or  no  Bible,  or  no 
Hereafter !  However  much,  therefore,  we  may  be  harass- 
ed by  these  dark  suspicions,  they  are  not  our  sin,  but  our 
misfortune,  so  long  as  we  shrink  from  them,  and  try  to 
shake  them  ofT.  At  the  same  time,  we  are  not  altogether 
blameless  in  this  matter ;  for,  had  we  acquainted  and  fa- 
miliarized ourselves  more  fully  with  the  Evidences  of  na- 
tural and  revealed  religion,  Satan  would  not  have  found  it 
80  easy  to  unsettle  om'  thoughts.     Hence  the  importance  of 


92  THE     TEMPTATIONS     AND 

preventing  the  return  of  this  temptation,  by  acquiring  a  more 
full  and  connected  view  of  the  grounds  of  faith. 

Another  "fiery  dart"  of  Satan  is,  the  temptation  to 
Blasphemy.  Now,  although  every  thing  is  not  blasphemy, 
which  is  called  so  by  custom,  we  are  not  wrong  in  regard- 
ing, as  blasphemous,  ail  those  thoughts  which  impeach  the 
character  or  the  government  of  God.  There  are  things  in 
both  which  clash  with  our  natural  ideas  of  propriety  ;  and, 
when  they  clash  with  our  inclinations  too,  Satan  can  so 
magnify  what  we  dislike  in  the  Divine  character  and  gov- 
ernment, that  we  are  in  great  danger  of  thinking  and  speak- 
ing against  God.  "  I  do  well  to  be  angry,"  said  Jonah, 
when  God  caused  his  gourd  to  wither.  "  Verily,  I  have 
cleansed  my  heart  in  vain,"  said  Asaph,  when  he  saw  that 
the  "  ungodly"  prospered  in  the  world,  and  that  he  himself 
was  "  chastened  every  morning."  Now  all  these  things 
happen  still,  and  Satan  turns  them  into  strong  temptations 
when  they  happen  to  ourselves.  The  gourds  of  our  shel- 
ter and  solace  wither  sometimes  in  the  night,  and  we  are 
left  exposed  and  lonely,  whilst  the  gourds  of  the  ungodly 
are  almost  evergreens  :  or  our  plans  and  undertakings  arc 
unsuccessful,  whilst  those  who  have  no  fear  of  God  before 
their  eyes,  seem  to  have  every  thing  their  own  way,  and 
sometimes  more  than  heart  could  wish.  Thus,  between  the 
apparent  inequalities  of  Providence  and  our  own  actual  suf- 
ferings, we  are  tempted  to  murmur,  and,  at  times,  almost  to 
arraign  the  justice  of  God.  Indeed,  there  are  moments  of 
such  agitation,  when  Satan  aggravates  these  calamities, 
that  the  heart  seems  to  harden  under  them,  and  the  soul  to 
become  reckless  of  consequences.  Who  has  not  felt  that 
fiery  dart  flash  across  a  wounded  spirit — "  Let  God  do  his 
worst,  for  I  cannot  be  more  miserable  than  I  am  already  ?" 
These  are  awful  moments,  when  the  soul  is  almost  ready  to 
take  its  swing  atuongst  all  the  risks  of  time  and  eternity, 
and,  like  the  "unjust  judge,"  to  give  up  both  the  fear  of 
God  and  regard  for  man  !  Oh !  it  is  well  that,  when  Sa- 
tan comes  in  such  "  great  wrath,"  his  time  is  short :  and  it 


FIERY     DARTS     OF     SATAN.  93 

is  better,  that  the  good  Shepherd  holds  his  tempted  and  ter- 
rified sheep  so,  that  the  roaring  lion  cannot  devour  them, 
nor  pluck  them  out  of  their  Shepherd's  hand. 

At  such  moments,  indeed,  we  hardly  venture  to  regard 
ourselves  as  the  sheep  of  Christ :  we  seem  to  ourselves 
goats,  going  to  his  "  left  hand,"  of  our  own  accord,  and 
"  before  our  tnne."  Accordingly,  it  is  not  until  we  come  to 
our  "  right  mind"  again,  that  we  can  even  join  his  flock  in 
the  green  pastures  of  Zion.  "  But,"  it  may  be  said,  "  can 
any  sheep  or  Lamb  of  the  Saviour's  flock  sink  into  such 
reckless  desperation,  even  for  a  moment  ?"  Perhaps,  not 
sink  into  it ;  but  they  may  be  goaded  into  it  by  the  fiery 
darts  of  Satan.  Indeed,  when  the  character  of  God  comes 
to  be  judged  of  by  his  trying  dispensations,  instead  of  his 
dispensations  being  judged  of  by  his  character,  Satan  finds 
that  in  the  heart  to  work  upon,  which  can  soon  wind  it  up 
to  desperation.  Those  who  have  never  seen  much  of  real 
life,  or  never  looked  at  it  closely,  may  be  astonished  at  this. 
It  is,  however,  only  too  true  :  and  hence  the  necessity  of  a 
settled  conviction  in  our  minds,  that  God  must  not  be  judged 
of  by  our  trials.  Job  saw  and  felt  this,  when  he  said, 
"  Though  he  slay  me,  yet  will  I  trust  in  him."  And  we 
have  always  reason  to  do  so,  whatever  be  our  calamities ; 
for,  even  when  he  chastises  in  anger,  the  anger  is  not  mixed 
with  hatred,  but  with  love.  Whenever,  therefore,  Satan 
suggest,  from  our  afliictions,  any  reflection  or  charge  against 
the  Divine  character,  we  ought  immediately  to  shut  our 
hearts  against  it ;  and,  as  those  who  are  conscious  of  lov- 
ing God,  to  answer,  "  Get  thee  behind  me,  Satan ;  for  all 
thinors  work  together  for  good  to  them  that  love  God  !" 

It  is  not,  however,  in  times  of  calamity  only,  that  Satan 
hurls  his  fiery  darts  against  the  soul.  The  temptation  to 
find  fault  with  the  Sovereignty  of  Grace,  is  often  greatest 
when  Providence  is  most  smiling ;  at  least,  when  it  is  not 
adverse.  Satan  seems,  then,  to  envy  the  pleasure  which 
the  fearers  of  God  find  in  the  ways  of  God ;  and,  as  he 
cannot  forge  fiery  darts  out  of  their  lot  then,  he  often  draws 


94  THE    TEMPTATIONS     AND 

them  from  the  decrees  of  God.  How  far  we  ourselves  are 
naturally  prone  to  pry  into  "  secret  things,"  and  to  tamper 
with  the  abstract  question  of  personal  election,  I  do  not  stop 
to  inquire  now.  One  thing  is  certain,  that,  whether  prone 
or  averse,  almost  all  serious  minds  get  entangled  more  or 
less  with  the  question  at  times.  Who  has  not  felt  his 
thoughts  drawn  into  some  such  track  as  the  foUowinof : — 
"  True  ;  I  am  now  more  reconciled  to  the  salvation  and 
service  of  God  than  I  once  was  :  I  am  even  willing  to 
walk  in  the  narrow  way  which  leadeth  unto  life  ; — but  eter- 
nal life  '  is  not  of  him  that  willeth,  nor  of  him  that  runneth, 
but  of  God  that  showeth  mercy ;  and  He  will  have  mercy 
only  upon  whom  he  will  have  mercy.'  If,  therefore,  I  am 
not  elected — neither  my  willing  nor  my  running  can  avail 
me.  I  may  be  lost  at  last,  whatever  I  do  !  Oh !  why  is 
sovereignty  the  rule  of  mercy  ?" 

Whenever  Satan  can  get  the  soul  this  length  in  question- 
ing or  suspecting  the  good  will  of  God,  he  soon  entangles 
it  in  a  labyrinth  of  rash  or  dark  speculations  which  harden 
or  horrify  the  mind.  I  state  this  in  general  terms,  because 
it  would  be  improper  to  embody,  in  express  words,  all  the 
dreadful  surmises  and  charges  against  God,  which  rise  up 
in  tlxe  mind  at  such  times.  Those  who  have  felt  them,  need 
no  remembrancer,  and  those  who  are  strangers  to  them 
cannot  be  too  long  ignorant  of  them.  When,  however,  the 
question  of  personal  election  is  borne  in,  and  bound  upon 
the  soul,  like  a  heavy  chain,  which  checks  and  weighs 
down  hope  ;  and  when  "  the  iron  enters  into  the  soul,"  so 
that  it  knows  not  what  to  do  or  what  to  think  ; — the  best 
thing  which  can  be  done  in  such  a  case  is,  to  ask  the  sim- 
ple question,  "  Has  ever  any  one  found  out  his  own  elec- 
tion by  brooding  over  the  matter  as  I  am  doing  ?  Many 
have  acquired  a  cheering  persuasion  that  their  names  were 
"  written  in  the  Lamb's  book  of  life  :'  did  they  obtain  the 
hope  of  this  by  such  a  process  as  I  am  pursuing?  I  am 
afraid  to  pray,  and  have  no  heart  to  use  the  ordinary  means 
of  grace ;  because  I  am  not  sure  what  will  be  the  issue. 


FIERY     DARTS     OF     SATAN.  95 

Was  this  Paul's  plan,  was  this  the  line  of  conduct  which  the 
apostles  pointed  out  to  inquirers  ?  No  !  It  cannot,  there- 
fore, lead  me  to  the  point  1  wish  to  reach.  I  have,  indeed, 
instead  of  trying  to  enter  into  '  the  secret  of  the  Lord'  by 
the  '  door,^  been  trying  to  '  climb  up  some  other  way.' 
This  is  wrong!" 

Are  you,  then,  persuaded  that  it  is  wrong?  Well ;  con- 
sider again,  that  none  of  all  whom  you  have  known  to  die 
in  the  Lord,  or  know  to  be  the  Lord's,  had  any  knowledge 
of  their  election  when  they^^r^^  fled  to  Christ,  and  began  to 
follow  him.  Whatever  they  know  now,  they  were,  for  a 
time,  as  ignorant  on  this  point  as  you  can  be  ;  and  whatever 
they  have  found  out,  was  discovered  in  the  path  of  duty,  and 
nowise  apart  from  the  use  of  the  Scriptures.  Ask  them — 
and  they  will  tell  you  so.  Do  you,  then,  really  imagine 
that  it  is  necessary,  or  that  it  would  be  wise  to  reveal  to  you 
a  matter  which,  for  a  time,  is  kept  hid  from  all  the  heirs  of 
salvation?  Must  God,  to  humour  your  curiosity,  alter  his 
plan  of  acting  under  the  gospel  ?  The  old  and  usual  plan 
has  done  well  enough  for  millions  and  myriads,  who  had 
both  more  to  do  and  to  suffer  than  you  have.  I  do  not  un- 
derrate your  trials  nor  your  perplexities  ;  but  I  must  remind 
you  that  better  soldiers  have  had  to  fight  and  die  upon  the 
bare  ground  of  hope ;  so  that,  if  you  will  not  begin  the  spir- 
itual warfare  without  assurance,  you  will  never  begin  it  at 
aU. 

Besides ;  do  consider  that,  if  you  had  the  assurance  of 
your  own  personal  election,  it  would  not  alter  the  path  of 
duty  in  the  least.  It  would  unbind  nothing  that  is  binding 
on  Christians.  It  would  not  prevent  trials,  nor  exempt  you 
from  temptations.  It  would,  indeed,  I  grant,  cheer  you  in 
the  path  of  duty  and  suffering,  to  know  that  you  were 
chosen  and  called  to  eternal  life  ;  and  thus,  although  not 
absolutely  necessary  to  your  success,  it  is  certainly  desira- 
ble for  your  comfort.  I  will  even  go  farther,  and  affirm, 
(for  the  Word  of  God  bears  me  out  in  doing  so,)  that  you 
will  do  and  suffer  the  will  of  God  better  when  you  know 


96  FIERY  DARTS  OF  SATAN. 

your  election  of  God.  But,  if  you  really  want  to  know  it 
for  holy  purposes,  it  is  not  such  a  secret  as  you  have  hith- 
erto imagined,  nor  as  you  were  sure  to  find  it,  from  the  way 
you  took  to  discover  it. 

In  fact,  it  is  not  a  secret  at  all,  so  far  as  it  regards  those 
who  have  fled  to  Christ  for  a  holy  salvation :  they  are  the 
elect  of  God.  All  that  "  love  God"  are  "  the  called  accord- 
ing to  his  purpose."  This  is  expressly  revealed,  for  their 
satisfaction  on  the  point.  If,  therefore,  it  be  a  secret  to 
you,  it  is  so,  either  because  you  have  not  observed  this 
simple  fact,  or  because  you  still  doubt  the  sincerity  of  your 
own  faith  and  love.  The  scriptural  fact,  however,  is  now 
before  you  ;  all  true  believers  are  the  elect  of  God ;  and, 
therefore,  whatever  reason  you  have  to  regard  yourself  as 
a  believer,  is  proof  of  your  personal  election.  You  have 
no  occasion  to  perplex  yourself  with  the  abstract  question, 
if  you  are  conscious  of  loving  God  and  the  Lamb  ;  for  love 
to  them  settles  the  whole  question  in  your  case,  and  in  all 
cases  where  love  is  genuine.  What  you  have  to  do,  there- 
fore, is  simply  to  ascertain  the  sincerity  of  your  faith  and 
love  ;  and  that  may  be  soon  done,  if  you  take  care  to  dis- 
tinguish between  weakness  and  insincerity,  and  between  im- 
perfection and  pretence.  Now,  you  know  that  your  avowals 
of  faith  and  love  at  the  mercy-seat,  and  your  desires  for 
their  increase,  are  v^oi  pretences,  but  the  unfeigned  language 
of  your  heart,  addressed  to  the  Searcher  of  hearts.  Well ; 
his  language  to  you  is  express — "  /  have  loved  thee  with  an 
everlasting  love,  therefore  with  loving  kindness  have  I  drawn 
thee."  And  let  this  be  your  answer  to  all  the  counter-sug- 
gestions of  Satan. 


RELIGIODS    FEELING     AND     ENJOYMENT.  97 


No.  X. 

THE    FLUCTUATIONS    OF     RELIGIOUS    FEELING 
AND    ENJOYMENT. 

There  are  few  things  more  distressing  or  discouraging 
to  a  serious  mind,  than  the  unsteadiness  of  its  own  feehngs. 
These  change  so  often  and  so  much,  that  we  hardly  know 
what  to  think  of  ourselves  at  times.  We  wish  to  be  feel- 
ingly alive  to  the  glories  of  the  Saviour  and  salvation — to 
the  solemnities  of  death  and  eternity — and  to  the  claims  of 
duty  and  devotion  ;  but,  somehow,  the  impression  of  these 
great  realities  is  not  abiding. — It  seems  often  "  ready  to 
vanish  away"  from  our  minds.  And  yet,  at  times,  the  im- 
pression of  eternal  things  is  very  deep.  Occasionally,  it 
seizes  upon,  and  sinks  into,  the  heart  so  fully,  that  we 
could  not  throw  it  off  if  we  would  ;  and  yet  it  soon  passes 
off,  even  against  our  will,  Wc  do  not  intend  to  forget  di- 
vine things,  nor  to  become  formal  in  religious  duties  ;  but, 
alas  !  we  often  do  both,  and  find  ourselves  almost  estranged 
from  God  and  godliness  ;  so  treacherous  and  changeable 
is  the  human  mind,  even  after  it  has  felt  much  of  the  pow- 
er of  truth  and  eternity  ! 

This  melancholy  fact  naturally  gives  rise  to  a  suspicion 
in  our  own  breasts,  that,  whatever  we  have  experienced, 
we  are  not  yet  truly  converted  to  God  ;  for  it  seems  im- 
possible to  reconcile  these  sad  changes  of  feelings  with 
the  possession  of  "  the  root  of  the  matter."  All  our  ordi- 
nary ideas  of  "  a  new  heart  and  a  right  spirit,"  include  the 
necessity  of  more  habitual  steadiness  of  purpose  and 
strength  of  spiritual  feeling.  Accordingly,  our  relapses 
into  deadness  and  formality  induce  a  doubt,  if  not  of  our 
sincerity,  of  our  conversion ;  and  thus  all  our  pleasing 
hopes,  which  were  drawn  from  the  consciousness  of  rely- 
ing on  Christ  for  a  holy  salvation,  are  almost  upset,  at 
times.     They  seem  unwarranted  in  our  case,  because  our 

VOL.  I. — 9 


98  FLUCTUATIONS     OF     RELIGIOUS 

feelings  are  inconsistent  with  them,  and  with  all  our  ideas 
of  the  saving  work  of  the  holy  spirit  upon  the  heart.  The 
consequence  is — we  are  often  ready  to  conclude  that  we 
are  too  hasty  in  taking  up  the  hope  of  salvation,  and  in 
giving  ourselves  credit  for  being  converted  characters.  We 
are  almost  persuaded,  at  times,  that  it  would  have  been  bet- 
ter to  have  waited  longer,  before  venturing  to  avow  our  re- 
ligious feelings  to  the  world  or  to  the  church.  We  may 
not  exactly  repent  of  having  said  that  we  were  in  good 
earnest  about  the  salvation  of  our  souls  ;  but  we  have 
wished  that  we  had  said  less,  and  thought  more,  on  the 
subject. 

In  this  painful  dilemma  many  find  themselves,  and  hard- 
ly know  what  to  do  or  think  in  their  own  case.  The  sad 
unsteadiness  of  their  religious  feelings  and  resolutions 
keeps  some  back  from  the  sacrament,  and  almost  forces 
others  away  from  it.  One  class  are  afraid  to  come,  and 
another  equally  afraid  to  continue.  The  former  are  not 
easy  in  their  absence  from  it,  nor  the  latter  easy  in  their 
attendance  on  it ;  and  both,  whilst  in  this  unhappy  state  of 
mind,  derive  but  little  benefit  from  the  other  ordinances  of 
grace. 

Such  being  the  fact  of  this  case,  it  is  of  immense  im- 
portance to  both  classes,  that  the  subject  of  Fluctuating 
Religious  Feelings  should  be  cleared  up  to  them  withoul 
reserve  or  delay.  It  is,  however,  a  subject  equally  delicate 
and  difficult;  for  any  view  of  it  which  would  lead  the  se- 
rious to  think  lightly  of  the  evil  of  dead  or  cold  frames  of 
mind,  would  do  far  more  injury  than  these  frames  them- 
selves. For,  bad  as  they  are  in  themselves,  and  in  their 
influence  upon  Christian  character,  they  are  not  so  baneful 
as  a  heedless  disregard  to  the  state  of  the  heart.  He  who 
trembles  at  the  treachery  of  his  own  heart,  is  humhlcd,  as 
well  as  hindered,  by  it ;  whereas  he  who  is  reconciled  to 
a  vacant  mind  and  a  worldly  spirit,  and  thus,  reckless  how 
he  feels,  is  sure  to  make  shipwreck  of  faith  and  of  a  good 
conscience.     The  mourner  over  the  plagues  of  his  own 


FEELING     AND     ENJOYMENT.  99 

heart  will,  at  least,  not  increase  them  ;  but  the  nnan  who  re- 
gards them  as  mere  matters  of  course,  and  thus  allows  them 
to  take  their  swing,  will  soon  bring  them  out  from  the  cen- 
tre of  his  heart  to  the  surface  of  his  life. 

Such  being  my  own  personal  convictions,  and,  as  far  as 
I  can  ascertain  it,  the  actual  result  of  general-  experience 
on  this  subject,  I  am  not  likely  to  lessen  either  your  fear  or 
hatred  of  those  melancholy  changes  of  feelings  which  now 
pain  and  perplex  you.  I  cannot,  indeed,  join  with  you  in 
regarding  them  as  utterly  incompatible  or  inconsistent  with 
the  existence  of  saving  faith  in  the  heart ;  but  I  am  fully 
prepared  to  regard  them,  in  reference  to  the  spiritual  health 
of  the  soul,  as  indicating,  what  similar  bodily  symptoms 
imply,  the  presence  of  disease.  Now,  all  is  not  right,  but 
much  wrong,  with  the  body,  when  there  is  a  frequent  loss  of 
appetite,  or  a  loathing  of  natural  food,  or  a  disposition  to 
lethargy.  In  each  of  these  cases  there  is  abundant  reason 
for  fear  and  care.  Accordingly,  we  are  both  fearful  and 
careful,  when  such  symptoms  show  themselves.  But,  even 
wdien  they  are  most  alarming,  we  never  imagine  that  they 
disprove  ihe  former  existence  of  life  or  health.  Such  an 
idea  is  too  absurd  to  be  admitted  for  a  moment.  Well ;  in 
like  manner,  the  loss  of  spiritual  appetite  and  relish  does 
not  prove  that  we  never  had  any.  In  fact,  it  just  proves  the 
contrary :  for,  as  we  know  from  having  enjoyed  bodily 
health,  that  there  is  a  change  for  the  worse  when  appetite 
fails ;  so  the  felt  and  deplored  loss  of  relish  for  divine 
things,  proves  that  they  were  once  enjoyed  by  the  soul. 
Hence  Job's  piercing  lamentation,  "  Oh,  that  it  icere  with 
me  as  in  months  past  /"  is  as  much  proof  that  "  the  can- 
dle of  the  Lord"  had  shone  upon  him,  as  that  it  was  then 
eclipsed. 

Parallels  between  natural  and  spiritual  life  and  health 
are,  I  am  fully  aware,  hazardous  grounds  of  argument  when 
the  object  is  to  ascertain  a  point  so  solemn  as  the  conversion 
of  the  soul  to  God  ;  for  almost  any  bodily  action  or  emo- 
tion  proves   the   existence  of  natural  life  to  a  certainty : 


100  FLUCTUATIONS     OF    RELIGIOUS 

whereas  there  may  be  many  moral  feelings,  which  although 
they  resemble  spiritual  feelings  in  some  things,  do  not 
amount  to  spiritual  life.  There  are,  perhaps,  very  few  per- 
sons amongst  those  who  have  sat  under  a  faithful  ministry 
of  the  Gospel,  who  have  not  felt  both  alarmed  and  allured,  at 
times,  by  the  appeals  of  the  pulpit.  It  is  not  even  uncommon 
to  find  persons  completely  enraptured,  for  some  months  or 
weeks,  with  a  ministry  which  is  full  of  Christ  and  grace, 
and  so  spiritual  withal,  that  it  seems  impossible  to  love  it, 
without  loving  the  Saviour  at  the  same  time.  But  all  this, 
we  know,  may  be  done  without  even  leading  to  secret 
prayer.  In  like  manner,  it  is  quite  possible  to  take  a  very 
lively  interest  in  religious  duties,  and  to  be  much  pleased, 
for  a  considerable  time,  with  prayer-meetings  and  spiritual 
conversation  :  and  yet  to  remain  unregenerate  all  the  time. 
This  is  often  proved,  by  the  return  of  such  persons  to  their 
old  habits  of  indifference  and  neglect.  But  here  is  the  dif- 
ference between  them  and  the  truly  serious  : — the  former 
are  not  sorry  to  give  up  their  new  habits,  nor  unwilling  to 
return  to  their  old  ways  ;  but  rather  glad  than  otherwise,  to 
rid  themselves  of  religious  restraints :  whereas  the  latter 
cannot  bear  the  idea  of  going  back  to  the  world,  nor  feel 
easy  when  their  hearts  are  becoming  worldly.  There  may 
be  sad  changes  for  the  worse  in  the  state  of  their  feelings ; 
but  these  make  their  heart  sad,  and  humble  them  before 
God.  They  count  it  not  gain,  but  a  heavy,  heavy  loss,  to 
get  free  from  the  holy  influence  of  any  religious  principle  or 
motive.  It  is  no  pleasure  to  them,  but  an  acute  pain,  to 
feci  that  either  the  Gospel  or  the  Law  is  losing  any  of  its 
authority  over  them.  In  a  word,  it  is  their  chief  burden 
and  terror  to  feel  less  affected  by  divine  things  than  at  first. 
Now,  when  this  is  the  real  state  of  the  case,  and  when, 
in  connexion  with  this  sense  of  loss  and  sin,  there  is  a  deep 
desire  to  return  to  the  love  and  liveliness  of  former  days, 
the  changes  do  not  disprove  the  reality  of  the  faith  or  con- 
version of  such  mourners  in  Zion.  Lukcwarmness  and 
the  loss  of  relish  in  the  service  of  God  and  the  Lamb,  prove, 


FEELING     AND     ENJOYMENT.  101 

indeed,  much  against  such  mourners  ;  but  they  do  not  prove 
them  to  be  unbelievers,  far  less  hypocrites.  Bad  frames  of 
mind  demonstrate  that  there  has  been  some  bad  habit  or 
temper  indulged,  or  not  sufficiently  watched  against ;  and 
that  there  has  been  some  want  of  prayer  and  prudence,  and 
some  yielding  to  sloth,  or  tampering  with  temptation  ;  and 
any  of  these  causes  of  heartlessness  are  reasons  for  deep 
shame  and  humiliation,  but  not  for  despair.  Despair  can 
only  make  all  that  is  bad,  worse,  and  all  that  is  discoura- 
ging, desperate  ;  because  its  direct  tendency  is  to  harden 
the  heart. 

But  whilst  it  is  true  that  bad  frames  of  spirit  are  never 
wholly  unconnected  with  remissness  of  some  kind,  it  is 
equally  true  that  both  they  and  their  practical  causes  are 
connected  with  some  misapprehension  of  the  Gospel  itself. 
There  has  been  something  doctrinal  forgotten,  or  mistaken, 
or  overlooked,  as  well  as  something  practical  neglected, 
whenever  lukewarmness  or  disrelish  takes  possession  of 
the  heart.  Either  the  object  of  faith,  or  the  law  of  faith, 
is  in  some  degree  lost  sight  of  or  misunderstood,  when  the 
followers  of  the  Lamb  are  heartless  and  formal.  This  is 
self-evident :  because  it  is  impossible  for  any  man  to  believe 
that  he  himself  is  redeemed  by  the  blood  of  Christ,  and  thus 
made  a  child  of  God,  and  yet  remain  unfeeling  towards  God 
and  the  Lamb.  Accordingly,  so  long  as  we  venture  to 
cherish  the  fond  hope  that  we  are  "  accepted  in  the  Be- 
loved," we  are  not  unfeeling  in  heart,  nor  formal  in  obedi- 
dience.  It  is  when  we  forget  or  doubt  that  we  are  "justi- 
fied by  faith,"  that  we  cease  to  have  "  peace  with  God," 
and  sink  into  heartlessness  in  his  service  ;  and  therefore, 
the  grand  evangelical  fact,  that  his  "  righteousness  is  upon 
all  that  believe,"  should  never  be  forgotten  or  doubted  by 
any  one  who  is  relying  on  Christ  for  a  holy  salvation.  It 
is  the  duty  as  well  as  the  privilege  of  all  who  have  commit- 
ted their  souls  to  Christ  to  believe  that  they  are  justified  by 
believing  on  him;  because,  in  no  other  way  can  the^y  ever 
obtain  the  joy  of  salvation.     In  fact,  there  is  no  other  way ; 

9* 


102  FLUCTUATIONS     OF     RELIGIOUS 

for  whatever  the  Holy  Spirit  does  in  producing-  that  joy,  he 
does  it  by  opening  up  this  revealed  truth  to  the  mind,  and 
enabling  the  soul  to  believe  it  in  its  own  behalf.  And  this 
belief,  although  not  essential  to  acceptance  with  God,  is  es- 
sential to  "  peace  with  God,"  and  to  the  maintenance  of  a 
feeling  heart  in  his  service ;  for  no  one  can  feel  aright  in 
all  things,  who  does  not  believe  aright  in  all  those  things 
which  "  belong  to  our  peace." 

If,  therefore,  you  never  understood  clearly  this  part  of 
the  Gospel,  nor  saw,  in  the  handwrituig  of  God,  your  own 
warrant  to  regard  yourself  as  a  child  of  God,  it  is  no  won- 
der that  your  best  frames  and  feelings  have  not  been  last- 
ing. How  could  they  last  under  the  weakening  and  wast- 
ing influence  of  suspense  ?  What  was  there  to  maintain 
them  in  lively  exercise,  whilst  you  could  not  lay  your  hand 
upon  the  written  promise  of  your  own  salvation  ?  Seeing 
the  possibility  of  being  saved,  is,  indeed,  a  "  great  sight," 
which  may  well  awaken  whole  trains  of  sweet  and  solemn 
feelings  in  the  bosom  of  a  trembling  sinner  ;  but  these  cannot 
last  long  in  their  sweetness,  unless  he  see  too  ihe  probability 
of  being  saved.  Even  the  desire  of  salvation,  which  is, 
perhaps,  the  most  powerful  feeling  of  a  serious  mind,  must 
lose  much  of  his  power,  if  it  can  lay  hold  on  nothing 
stronger  than  a  '■'■  pcradventure''^  to  gratify  it.  The  soul 
craves  for  more — the  conscience  needs  more,  than  a  may- 
he  to  satisfy  them.  Accordingly,  if  they  are  not  satisfied, 
they  soon  fall  asleep  again,  or  return  to  their  old  portion. 

Here,  then,  is  one  great  cause  of  the  decline  of  spiritual 
relish  ; — the  spiritual  appetite,  when  hunoering  and  thirsting 
for  salvation,  is  not  taken  direct  to  the  Gospel  for  satisfac- 
tion, but  tantalized  by  mere  peradventures.  Indeed,  even 
prayer  itself  fails  to  keep  up  a  happy  frame  of  mind,  when 
the  mind  has  nothing  else  to  look  to  but  the  bare  probability 
of  an  eventual  answer.  Accordingly,  if  you  have  been 
doing  nothing  more  than  praying  for  salvation,  it  is  really  no 
wonder  that  your  enjoyment  has  been  both  small  and  un- 
steady.    Not,  indeed,  that  you  have  prayed  too  much ;  that 


FEELING     AND     ENJOYMENT.  103 

is  impossible  ;  but  because  you  have  believed  too  little. 
God  answers  prayer  by  blessing  his  own  Word  to  the  soul ; 
and  therefore  it  is  as  necessary  to  "  search  the  Scriptures," 
as  it  is  to  cry  for  mercy.  But  if,  instead  of  combining  with 
prayer  the  study  of  the  Gospel,  that  you  might  thus  under- 
stand the  salvation  you  have  been  seeking,  you  have  gone 
on  expecting  that  the  pardon,  and  peace,  and  joy,  which  you 
wanted,  would  be  infused,  in  some  mysterious  way,  into 
your  heart — your  disappointment  is  a  matter  of  course  ; 
for  you  did  not  take  God's  plan  of  succeeding ;  and  the  con- 
sequence is,  the  darkness  and  deadness  which  you  com- 
plain of.  In  fact,  confining  the  pursuit  of  salvation  to  pray- 
er alone,  is  almost  enough  to  bring  prayer  itself  to  a  speedy 
and  final  end  ;  for  no  man  will  persist  long  in  fervent  pray- 
er, if,  after  many  strong  cries  and  tears,  he  finds  himself  as 
far  off  as  ever  from  hope  and  peace.  He  may  not  throw 
off  the  habit  of  it ;  but  it  will  gradually  fall  off,  if  he  gain 
nothing  by  it.  Nor  is  this  all  the  bad  effect  of  disuniting 
faith  from  prayer;  the  man  who,  after  much  prayer  for 
pardon  and  peace,  finds  no  sense,  nor  symptom,  of  either 
in  his  mind,  is  strongly  tempted  to  abandon  the  pursuit  as 
hopeless,  and  to  suspect  that  God  has  singled  him  out  as 
an  exception  to  the  rule,  that  "whosoever  shall  call  on  the 
name  of  the  Lord  shall  be  saved."  And  when  this  dark 
suspicion  sets  in  upon  his  mind,  it  soon  gives  birth  to  still 
darker  thoughts  and  feelings.  And  even  when  disappoint- 
ment does  not  occasion  such  horrid  suspicions,  it  wears  out 
the  spirit  of  prayer,  and  weighs  down  all  the  best  feelings 
of  the  heart.  The  sad  reflection,  "  I  obtain  no  answers  to 
my  prayers,  and  find  no  enjoyment  in  them  now  !"  almost 
cuts  the  cords  which  first  bound  the  soul  to  "the  horns  of 
■the  altar."  And  when  such,  or  indeed  any  considerations, 
alienate  the  soul  from  secret  dcA'Otion,  they  soon  alter  its 
gracious  feelings  and  habits. 

Now,  it  is  thus,  chiefly,  that  matters  go  wrong  in  the 
heart  of  the  serious  ;  they  miss  enjoyment  by  overlooking 
part  of  the  Gospel,  and  thus  lose  much  of  their  first  love 


104  FLUCTUATIONS     OF     RELIGIOUS 

and  liveliness.  Other  oversights  concur,  indeed,  with  this 
one,  in  producing  and  prolonging  a  low  state  of  piety  in  the 
soul ;  and  nothing  can  restore  the  soul  to  spiritual  health, 
which  does  not  correct  these  practical  oversights,  and  lead 
to  watchfulness  and  diligence.  Nothing,  however,  can  re- 
store the  soul  to  the  joy  of  salvation,  or  to  the  power  of 
godliness,  but  the  Holy  Spirit,  by  leading  you  "  into  all 
truth,"  for,  until  you  have  a  personal  hold  upon  the  great 
salvation,  it  cannot  have  a  j)ermanent  influence  upon  your 
heart.  Now,  such  a  hold  of  it  you  have  either  not  obtain- 
ed, or  you  have  lost  it ;  and,  whichever  be  the  case,  there 
is  only  one  way  of  obtaining  it, — namely,  by  the  belief  vi^ 
all  the  truth.  Watchfulness,  Mdthout  believing,  will  not 
make  the  heart  happy,  nor  "  right  with  God  :"  prayer,  with- 
out believing,  will  not  restore  the  joy  of  salvation.  They 
may  produce  a  state  of  mind  and  character,  so  devout,  and 
humble,  and  upright,  that,  by  reasoning  from  effects  to 
causes,  you  may  venture  to  conclude  that  your  salvation  is 
begun,  and  thus  get  hold  of  it  by  inference.  It  was  thus, 
most  likely,  that  you  acquired  your  first  hope  and  joy  of 
salvation  ;  the  loss  of  which  you  now  deplore.  You  then 
felt  as  you  had  never  done  before,  and  found  such  a  change 
of  heart  and  habits  taking  place  in  you,  and  were  conscious 
of  such  a  willingness  to  be  indebted  and  devoted  to  the 
Saviour,  that  you  could  hardly  doubt  the  reality  of  vour 
conversion.  Accordiniilv,  from  thus  seeinji  and  fcelinij  the 
work  of  the  Spirit  within  you,  you  ventured  to  conclude 
that  the  work  of  Christ  was  for  you.  Because  you  thought 
that  the  Holy  Spirit  had  "  quickened"  you,  you  hoped  that 
the  Saviour  had  "  died  for"  you ;  and  because  certain 
marks  of  effectual  calling  were  showing  themselves  in  your 
heart  and  life,  you  ventured  to  regard  them  as  some  evi- 
dence of  being  "  called  according  to  the  purpose"  of  God. 
It  was,  porhaps,  somewhat  in  this  way,  that  you  obtained 
whatever  hold  of  salvation  you  got  for  yourself  at  first; 
and,  could  you  see  all  those  marks  of  grace  about  yourself 
again,  you  would  feel  warranted  and  encouraged  to  take 


FEELING     AND     ENJOYMENT.  105 

down  your  harp  from  the  willows,  and  sing  again  the  New 
Song :  but  as  some  of  these  marks  are  almost  gone,  and  all 
of  them  more  or  less  decayed,  you  dare  not  sing  as  in  the 
days  of  old,  nor  even  hope  as  formerly.  But  now,  if  this 
really  be  a  true  copy  of  your  past  and  present  views  and 
feelings,  does  it  not  occur  to  you,  on  looking  at  the  copy,  that 
you  have,  all  along,  had  but  confused  ideas  of  the  Gospel? 
You  seem,  indeed,  to  have  believed  it  cordially  as  far  as 
you  understood  it ;  but  it  does  not  seem  that  you  ever  stud- 
ied it  half  so  much  as  you  did  the  frames  of  your  own 
mind.  You  must  have  looked  chiefly  into  and  at  yourself 
for  a  warrant  to  hope  in  Christ.  Do  consider  this  fact. 
According  to  your  own  account  of  the  matter,  you  have, 
since  you  began  to  think  seriously,  been  much  in  the  habit 
of  marking  the  workings  of  your  own  mind,  and  the  melt- 
ings of  your  own  heart ;  and  when  you  found  them  of  a 
holy  and  humble  character,  you  began  to  think  that  you 
were  then  warranted,  and  almost  welcome,  to  hope  in  Christ 
for  your  own  salvation  ;  but  now  that  you  feel  less  spiritual 
and  contrite,  you  are  afraid  to  hope. 

Now  really,  if  this  be  the  real  state  of  the  case  with  you, 
you  have  misunderstood  the  Gospel  more  than  I  have  hith- 
erto supposed  you  to  have  done.  For  do  you  not  see,  that, 
in  all  your  reasonings  from  effects  to  causes,  your  own  feel- 
ings, and  not  God's  invitations,  have  been  made  your  chief 
warrant  for  hoping  in  Christ.  This  is  self-evident,  seeing 
that,  now  your  tenderness  of  feeling  is  gone,  you  are  afraid 
to  hope  ; — a  plain  proof  that  you  have  studied  your  own 
heart  far  more  than  the  word  of  God.  What  he  says  con- 
cerning the  ground  and  warrant  of  hope,  has  had  less  of 
your  attention  than  what  you  felt  towards  religion  in  gen- 
eral. Now,  although  you  did  not,  and,  indeed,  could  not, 
feel  too  much,  you  have  made  a  wrong  use  of  your  best 
feelings,  in  thus  making  them  your  chief  encouragement 
in  hoping  for  salvation  ;  for  they  are  no  part  of  the  gTOund 
of  hope,  nor,  in  themselves,  of  its  warrant.  "  Behold  the 
Lamb  of  God,  which  taketh  away  the  sin  if  the  worlds  is 


106  CAUSES    OF    BACKSLIDING. 

both  the  only  ground  and  warrant  of  hope  which  the  Scripf 
tures  contain.  Nor  is  any  thing  more  necessary ;  for  as 
the  biood  of  the  Lamb  answers  all  the  demands  of  the  law, 
so  the  word  of  the  Lamb  warrants  all  who  are  looking  to 
Him  alone  for  acceptance  with  God,  to  believe  that  they 
are  accepted.  This  is  the  Gospel !  "  He  that  beUeveth, 
is  justified  from  all  things."  "  He  that  believeth  hath  eter- 
nal life."  If,  therefore,  you  are  conscious  that,  notwith- 
standing all  your  mistakes  and  relapses,  your  real  design 
was  and  is  to  rely  upon  Christ  alone,  that  you  might  be- 
come like  Christ ;  you  too  are  warranted,  by  the  direct 
authority  of  God,  to  believe  that  you  are  a  partaker  of  that 
salvation  which  you  were,  just  now,  afraid  to  hope  for. 
And  if  you  are  astonished  to  find  the  matter  brought  to  this 
much  desired,  but  unexpected  issue,  do  remember  that  it  is 
only  saying,  in  other  words,  that  eternal  life  is  "  the  free 
gift  of  God"  to  them  who  believe  in  Christ.  Consider  these 
things,  and  they  will  soon  restore  all  your  best  feelings, 
and  place  them  upon  a  firmer  basis  than  ever  they  stood 
on  before. 


No.  XI. 

THE     CAUSES     OF     BACKSLIDING. 

One  great  cause  of  backsliding  is  the  uncertainty  which 
many  of  the  serious  allow  to  rest  upon  the  question  of  their 
own  faith  in  Christ.  They  never  were  sure  that  they  were 
believers.  They  wished  to  bo  so — tried  to  be  so,  and 
hoped  that,  eventually,  they  should  prove  to  be  so.  This 
may  be  your  case.  You  were  quite  sure,  when  you  began 
to  follow  Christ,  that  a  great  change  had  taken  place  in 
your  heart  and  habits,  and  in  your  views  and  feelings  ; — so 


CAUSES    OF    BACKSLIDING,  107 

great,  that  you  could  not  but  regard  it,  then,  as  the  begin- 
ning of  that  "  good  work"  which  God  has  promised  to  carry 
on.  Accordingly,  under  this  sweet  persuasion,  you  began 
to  act  as  a  believer,  and  to  apply  to  yourself  all  the  com- 
mands which  are  enjoined  upon  believers.  Thus,  in  refer- 
ence to  duty,  you  cast  in  your  lot  with  the  people  of  God, 
and  willingly  came  under  all  their  peculiar  obligations ;  and 
the  readiness  with  which  you  did  so,  at  that  time,  was  no 
small  proof  to  yourself,  and  others,  that  you  were  the  sub- 
ject of  a  divine  charge.  You  were  even  glad  to  find  that 
you  were  no  longer  unwilling  to  follow  holiness,  nor  averse 
to  devotion.  Yuu  wondered  and  wept  that  you  had  ever 
neglected  them — and  adored  the  grace  w^hich  had  put  an 
end  to  that  criminal  negligence.  Accordingly,  you  often 
felt  sure  that  you  could  never  relapse  into  your  old  state  of 
mind ;  the  bare  idea  of  going  back  from  the  "  narrow  way" 
into  the  "  broad  way"  again,  was  abhorrent  lo  you.  You 
could  not  believe  that  it  was  possible  after  all  that  you  had 
seen  and  felt,  to  forsake  the  fountain  of  living  waters,  and 
return  to  the  broken  cisterns  of  sin  or  folly.  But  you  have 
done  so,  and  left  both  your  "  first  love,"  and  your  "  first 
work."  You  are  now  a  backslider,  and  feel  and  confess 
that  you  are  so. 

Many  causes,  of  course,  concurred  in  producing  this 
backsliding ;  and  all  the  moral  causes  of  it  are  well  known 
to  yourself.  You  can  see,  at  a  glance,  how  it  began  in  the 
neglect  of  secret  prayer ;  and  how  it  went  on  by  the  neg- 
lect of  self-examination  ;  and  how  it  settled  into  a  kind  of 
apostacy  of  heart  from  God  and  godliness,  by  an  undue 
attention  to  the  world,  or  by  tampering  with  forbidden 
things.  Your  heart  condemns  you — and  "  God  is  greater 
than  your  heart,  and  knoioeth  all  things  .'"  The  case,  how- 
ever, although  both  lamentable  and  criminal,  is  not  hope- 
less. You  have,  indeed,  almost  given  up  God ;  but  God 
has  not  given  up  you  ;  so  that  there  is  still  hope  in  Israel 
concerning  this  thing !  For  it  is  just  as  true  that  God 
"  heals  backslidings,"  as  that  he  pardons   sins ; — just  as 


108  CAUSES     OF     BACKSLIDING. 

true  that  the  backslider  is  welcome  to  return  to  Christ,  as 
that  any  sinner  is  welcome  to  come  to  him.  He  who  re- 
stored Peter  will  not  reject  you,  when  you  seek  him  with 
all  your  heart.  The  Saviour  is,  in  fact,  more  unwilling  to 
give  you  up  finally,  than  you  are  to  be  given  up  by  him. 

Such  being  the  real  state  of  the  case,  the  first  question 
is,  of  course.  How  must  you  return  ?  Now  there  is  not  one 
way  for  unbelievers  to  come  to  God,  and  another  for  back- 
sliders to  return  to  God  ;  but  the  way  in  which  you  came, 
is  the  only  way  in  which  you  can  return.  Both  unbelievers 
and  backsliders  have  "  access  to  God,"  only  "  by  the  blood 
of  Christ ;"  but  in  that  way,  whosoever  cometh,  or  returneth, 
he  will  in  no  wise  cast  out.  In  a  word,  backsliders  can  only 
be  restored  in  the  same  way  that  sinners  are  justified — by 
believing  in  Christ  for  salvation. 

Now,  if  you  intend  to  try  again  this  way  of  access  to  God, 
see  to  it,  I  beseech  you,  that  the  question  of  your  believing 
is  not  left  in  the  doubtful  state  in  which  you  allowed  it  to 
remain,  when  you  first  attempted  to  believe  with  the  heart ; 
for  if  you  leave  it  unsettled  or  uncertain,  you  will  soon 
backslide  again.  You  cannot  go  on  well  in  the  ways  of 
God,  until  you  know  that  you  are  a  believer.  All  your 
former  backslidings  arose,  more  or  less,  out  of  your  former 
uncertainty  on  this  point.  They  had,  indeed,  other  and 
worse  causes  ;  but  this,  too,  was  a  cause.  And  in  this  way  ; 
— not  being  sure  that  you  were  a  believer,  you  were  not, 
and  could  not  be,  sure  that  you  had  ^ny  right  io  the  comfort 
of  the  great  and  precious  promises.  Accordingly  you  were 
afraid,  even  in  your  best  days,  to  apply  them  freely  to  your- 
self. I  mean,  you  did  not,  and  durst  not,  even  then,  apply 
the  promises  to  your  own  case,  as  you  applied  the  lairs  of 
the  Gospel.  You  were  quite  sure  that  it  was  your  bounden 
duty  to  regard  all  the  commandments  of  God  as  the  rule  of 
your  life  ;  but  you  were  not  sure  tliat  it  was  your  privilege 
to  regard  all  the  promises  of  God  as  the  portion  of  your  soul. 
You  pleaded,  indeed,  the  promises  in  the  name  of  Christ, 
and  hoped  that  God  would  fulfil  them  in  your  experience; 


CAUSES    OF    BACKSLIDING.  109 

but  you  often  doubted  whether  he  would  do  so,  and  felt  that 
you  had  no  certain  hold  on  Him  or  them.  The  consequence 
of  all  this  was,  that  the  Gospel  had  not  a  firm  hold  upon 
you ;  and  therefore,  when  temptation  came,  you  were  not 
fully  prepared  to  resist  it.  You  could  not  say,  "  I  am  a  child 
of  God,  and  must  not  give  way  to  it — an  heir  of  salvation, 
and  need  not  be  vanquished  by  it."  Temptation,  therefore, 
had  nothing  to  contend  with,  but  a  sense  of  duty  and  interest ; 
and  this  it  overcame. 

It  is  of  immense  importance  to  understand  this  point 
clearly.  You  were  quite  sincere,  and  not  unhappy,  when 
you  began  to  follow  Christ :  salvation  was  your  supreme 
object ;  and  the  hope  of  obtaining  it,  sooner  or  later,  was 
the  joy  of  your  heart. 

You  did  not,  however,  expect  to  obtain  it  soon ;  but  laid 
your  account  with  years,  perhaps  of  diligence,  before  you 
could  make  your  calling  and  election  sure.  And,  at  first, 
you  were  not  unwilling  to  pursue  the  assurance  of  salvation 
at  this  expense  of  diligence.  You  thought,  and  rightly  too, 
that  the  witness  and  seal  of  the  Spirit  would  amply  repay 
all  the  pains  taken  to  obtain  them.  However,  before  they 
could  come,  you  had  begun  to  go  astray.  Neither  your  dili- 
gence nor  delight  lasted  long.  They  did  not,  indeed,  pass 
away  so  rapidly  as  the  early  cloud,  or  the  morning  dew ; 
but  they  did  pass  away  sooner  than  you  could  have  imagined 
it  possible  for  them.  Now  remember,  and  mark — ^just  in 
proportion  as  your  delight  in  the  ways  of  God  declined, 
your  diligence  abated ;  and,  exactly  as  both  declined,  your 
doubts  of  the  reality  of  your  conversion  multiplied.  Accord- 
ingly it  was  not  as  a  child  of  God — not  as  a  believer— not 
even  in  the  character  of  a  convert — that  you  departed  from 
God  ;  but,  in  leaving  him,  you  suspected  that  you  had  never 
belonged  to  Him.  You,  most  likely,  even  palliated  your 
backslidings  to  yourself,  by  the  consideration  that  you  had 
either  never  avowed  yourself  to  be  a  true  convert,  or  had 
not  been  sure  of  it  in  your  own  mind.  Your  backsliding 
did  not,  therefore,  appear  to  you  as  the  departure  of  a  child 

VOL.   I.    10. 


110  CAUSES     OF     BACKSLIDING. 

from  a  father,  but  of  a  servant  from  a  master.  You  felt, 
indeed,  that  you  were  risking  your  soul  more  than  ever ; 
but  you  felt  too  that  it  had  never  been  safe.  Thus,  you  had 
not  all,  nor  the  best,  motives  of  a  conscious  believer  to  re- 
strain you.  You  had,  indeed,  motives  which  ought  to  have 
restrained  you,  and  which  would  have  done  so,  if  they  had 
been  kept  steadfastly  in  view ;  and  it  is  but  your  sin  and 
shame,  that  you  lost  sight  of  them :  but  still,  you  had  not 
that  magnetic  motive  which  confirmed  the  souls  of  the  first 
disciples — "  We  loved  lam  because  he  first  loved  us."  Any 
love  you  had  to  the  Saviour  arose  either  from  the  consider- 
ation of  his  general  love  to  the  world,  or  from  the  hope  that 
he  might,  one  day,  manifest  his  love  to  you  ;  and,  as  the 
manifestation  which  you  looked  for  did  not  come,  the  dili- 
gence which  you  began  with  did  not  go  on. 

Now,  if  this  was  the  real  state  of  the  matter  in  your 
case,  thus,  it  is  evident,  it  will  be  again,  unless  you  get 
under  the  influence  of  (he  peculiar,  as  well  as  the  common, 
motives  which  bind  the  soul  to  Christ  and  holiness.  In 
returning  to  God,  therefore,  see  to  it — that  it  is  by  believing 
in  Christ  that  you  may  "  be  justified  by  the  faith  of  Christ'^ 
Your  first  approaches  to  the  Saviour  came  short  of  this. 
"  The  end"  of  whatever  faith  you  exercised  then,  was  the 
remote,  not  the  immediate,  salvation  of  your  soul :  where- 
as you  are  warranted,  and  welcome,  immediately  upon 
committing  your  soul  to  Christ  for  a  holy  salvation,  to  be- 
lieve that  you  "  shall  be  saved  ;"  for  God  accepts  at  once, 
and  Christ  keeps  for  ever,  all  who  believe  with  the  heart 
unto  riglitoousncss.  Credit  this,  therefore,  in  your  own 
case  ;  and  thus,  although  future  blacksliding  will  not  be 
rendered  impossible,  it  will  be  far  less  likely  to  occur. 

There  is,  however,  a  class  of  backsliders  who  never 
went  so  far,  either  in  believing  or  obeying  the  Gospel,  as 
in  the  case  just  stated.  They  knew  something  of  the  way 
of  salvation,  and,  for  a  time,  felt  so  much  of  its  value,  that 
they  could  not  neglect  secret  prayer,  nor  pray  without  tears. 
They  were  often  quite  overcome,  both  in  their  closets   and 


CAUSES     OF     BACKSLIDING.  Ill 

in  the  sanctuary,  with  sweet  or  solemn  impressions  of  di- 
vine and  eternal  things.  Their  hearts  meUed  or  warmed 
whenever  they  pondered  on  the  great  salvation.  But  now, 
all  this  holy  susceptibility  and  deep  feeling  is  lost,  and  with 
it,  all  the  hope  which  it  gave  rise  to.  Accordingly,  such 
persons,  on  looking  back  to  their  former  state  of  mind,  and 
contrasting  it  with  the  present,  feel  that  they  are  back- 
sliders in  heart  and  life.  The  consciousness  of  this  mel- 
ancholy fact  overwhelms  them  at  times  ;  but  when  they 
think  of  returning  to  the  Fountain  of  living  waters,  the 
want  of  their  old  feelings  of  love  and  relish  discourages 
them.  Hence  the  language  of  some  is,  "  O  that  it  were 
with  me  as  in  months  past !  but  I  can  rt^ither  feel  nor  pray 
now  as  I  did  then,  and,  therefore,  I  dare  not  hope.  My 
soul  no  longer  prospers,  and  therefore  I  can  take  no  com- 
fort from  the  promises.  I  have  lost  my  first  love,  and  now 
I  can  get  no  hold  upon  Christ  for  myself.  I  have  departed 
from  God,  and  God  has,  in  anger,  hid  his  face  from  me  !" 

Now  this  is  certainly  a  deplorable  case  ;  and  whoever 
would  treat  it  harshly  has  not  the  spirit  of  Christ.  The 
sincerity  and  humility  of  the  confession  demand  both  re^ 
spect  and  tenderness.  There  are,  however,  mistakes  mixed 
up  with  it,  which  require  to  be  corrected,  even  if  some  pain 
be  incurred  by  the  correction  of  them. 

Now,  when  you  say  that  "  God  has  hid  his  face  from 
you  in  anger,"  this  implies  that  you  once  saw  it  in  love,  and 
enjoyed  the  light  of  his  countenance.  But  is  this  really 
true  ?  Is  it  certain  that  what  you  once  enjoyed,  was  the 
divine  presence  shining  on  your  soul  ?  It  is  quite  certain 
that  you  enjoyed  something  which  was  both  pleasing 
and  profitable  to  you  at  the  time  :  of  that  there  can  be  no 
doubt,  seeing  the  memory  of  those  happy  moments  is  so 
dear  to  you,  and  the  loss  of  them  so  deeply  deplored  by 
you.  It  is  not,  therefore,  with  any  view  of  throwing  dis- 
credit on  your  word,  that  I  ask,  Is  it  i\iefact,  that  God  ever 
manifested  himself  to  your  soul  as  your  Father  and  por- 
tion  ?     Every  thing  is  not  the  divine  presence  which  is 


112  CAUSES     OF     BACKSLIDING. 

called  so.  What  you  felt  then,  may  appear,  when  com- 
pared with  your  present  darkness,  the  light  of  God's  coun- 
tenance ;  but  you  did  not,  perhaps,  think  it  so  then.  Re- 
member what  was  your  opinion  of  that  joy,  when  it  was 
full,  and  whilst  it  lasted  !  Were  you,  then,  sure  that  you 
had  obtained  salvation — sure  that  you  were  accepted  in  the 
Beloved — sure  that  you  were  passed  from  death  to  life  ? 
Did  not  your  joy  arise  rather  from  a  persuasion  that  you 
were  in  a  fair  way  for  finding  mercy  at  last  ?  Were  you 
not  quite  as  much  pleased  with  your  own  good  feelings  and 
intentions,  as  with  the  Gospel  ?  Was  it  not,  chiefly,  be- 
cause you  felt  as  you  did,  that  you  hoped  as  you  did  then  ? 
Remember,  as  minutely  as  you  can,  the  precise  character 
of  your  first  love  !  I  am  not  attempting  to  discredit  its  sin- 
cerity, but  to  ascertain  how  far  it  was  influenced  by  faith  in 
the  atonement.  What  I  want  to  get  at  in  your  case,  is  the 
degree  in  which  your  hopes  and  happiness  arose  from  be- 
lieving views  of  the  blood  of  Christ.  Now,  you  did  not 
overlook  that  great  atonement,  nor  presume  to  hope  apart 
from  its  merits.  In  one  sense,  it  was  your  only  and  final 
plea  at  the  mercy-seat :  but  did  you,  even  in  your  best  days, 
think  it  a  sufficient  plea  ?  When  you  pleaded  it  most  fer- 
vently, did  you  feel  it  to  be  enough,  in  itself  and  by  itself, 
to  obtain  for  you  acceptance  with  God  ?  Did  you  see 
nothing  between  you  and  hell,  but  the  cross  ? — and  see  that 
to  be  quite  enough  to  save  you  from  the  wrath  to  come  ? 
Did  you  really  believe  or  perceive,  that  nothing  but  faith 
was  necessary  in  order  to  warrant  hope  ?  Did  it  ever  oc- 
cur to  you,  even  when  your  faith  was  strongest,  that  your 
faith  had  saved  you  ?  Or,  is  it  not  the  fact,  that  you  attach- 
ed far  more  importance  to  your  feelings  than  to  your  faith  ? 
Be  honest! — your  believing  went  for  little  in  your  own 
estimation.  You  thought  it  the  least  part  of  your  piety ; 
and  that,  not  because  it  was  Aveak,  but  because  you  had 
very  little  faith  in  the  use  of  faith  itself,  or  did  not  regard 
your  own  believing  as  faith.  What  you  believed,  was  the 
last  tiling  you  thought  of,  when  examining  the  reality  of 


CAUSES     OF     BACKSLIDING.  113 

your  religion ;  you  laid  the  chief  stress  upon  your  tears, 
prayers,  and  holy  desires,  and  hardly  allowed  any  weight 
to  your  believing.  This  is  self-evident ;  for  you  still  be- 
lieve all  that  you  did  then,  and  still  think  your  belief  of  the 
Gospel  of  no  consequence  or  real  use.  It  gives  you  no 
comfort  now,  and  therefore  it  was  not  it  which  comforted 
you  then. 

Surely  all  this  forces  upon  you  the  suspicion,  if  not  the 
conviction,  that  whatever  you  felt,  even  in  your  best  days, 
you  did  not  understand  the  way  of  salvation  by  faith  well. 
For,  do  you  not  see,  that  if  the  atonement  had  really  been 
the  sole  ground  of  your  hope  then,  and  if  faith  in  it  had 
been  your  hold  on  it,  you  could  hope  still,  because  you  be- 
lieve still  all  that  you  did  then  ?  You  are  changed  for  the 
worse  in  many  respects,  but  your  believing  goes  on  as  for- 
merly, I  mean — you  disbelieve  none  of  the  truths  which 
you  believed  then.  You  have  as  much  faith  in  the  truth  of 
the  Gospel  as  ever  ;  but  having  less  feeling,  you  attach  no 
importance  to  it.  You  never  laid  much  stress  upon  your 
believing,  and  now  you  think  it  of  no  use  whatever. 

The  object  of  these  remarks  is,  to  convince  you,  that 
however  sincere,  warm,  or  pleasing,  your  former  religious 
feelings  were,  you  were,  all  along,  very  imperfectly  ac- 
quainted with  the  way  of  salvation  ;  indeed,  so  ignorant  of 
it,  that  if  all  these  feelings  were  restored  in  your  heart,  they 
would  not  prove  you  to  be  a  believer.  The  loss  of  them 
proves  that  you  are  a  backslider  from  much  that  was  good 
and  promising  ;  but  the  revival  of  them,  in  all  their  original 
tenderness,  w^ould  not  constitute  a  child  of  God  :  for  sinnei's 
are  made  "  the  sons  of  God,  by  faith  in  Christ  Jesus  ;■" 
whereas,  in  your  creed,  this  grand  principle  of  the  Gospel 
has  been  overlooked  or  misunderstood.  Or,  if  you  have 
talked  of  salvation  by  faith,  you  must  have  meant,  by  faith, 
something  more  than  the  hearty  belief  of  the  truth  concern- 
ing the  person  and  work  of  Christ.  Depend  on  it,  therefore 
that  you  are  not,  and  never  have  been,  so  humble  as  you 
imagine  ;  for  had  you  seen  or  believed  that  there  was  noth- 
10* 


114  SANCTIFED     AFFLICTIONS. 

ing  but  the  blood  of  the  Lamb  between  you  and  perishing, 
you  must  have  seen  too,  that  the  only  way  of  escape  is  by 
trusting  to  that  blood.  Well — it  is  open  to  your  confidence 
still ;  and,  if  you  are  persuaded  of  the  truth  of  its  freeness 
and  efficacy,  why  not  trust  in  it  at  once  ! 

Many  other  causes  of  backsliding  might  be  (perhaps 
ought  to  have  been)  enumerated ;  but  the  inoral  causes  of 
it  are  so  abundantly  explained  in  other  works,  that  it  seemed 
better  to  confine  this  chapter  to  those  mistakes,  and  to  that 
uncertainty,  upon  the  subject  of  a  personal  interest  in  Christ, 
which  give  such  power  to  temptation,  by  leaving  the  mind 
unsatisfied,  and  unfortified  with  the  hope  of  salvation. 


No.  XII. 

SANCTIFIED    AFFLICTIONS. 

The  perplexity  of  the  serious  is  often  increased,  for  a 
time,  by  their  trials  or  calamities.  And  in  this  way :  it 
seems  hard,  when  we  are  willing  and  trying  to  do  well  in 
the  service  of  God,  to  be  hindered  by  an  unusual  weight  of 
affliction.  Such  a  hinderance  we  did  not  look  for  ;  but  al- 
most calculated  that  providence,  as  well  as  grace,  would 
smile  upon  us  when  we  became  the  decided  followers  of 
the  Lamb.  We  may  not,  indeed,  have  ventured  to  say  so, 
in  words,  to  ourselves  ;  but  it  was  almost  an  understood 
thing,  and  taken  for  granted  by  us,  that  we  should  be  in  less 
danger  than  formerly.  We  intended  to  do  so  well,  and  to 
be  so  devoted  to  God,  that  it  seemed  unlikely  that  he  would 
allow  any  thing  to  befall  us,  which  was  likely  to  hinder  or 
unhinge  us  ;  but  God's  thoughts  are  not  as  our  thoughts  on 
this  point.  He  has  allowed  both  trials  and  calamities  to 
come  upon  us  ;  and  these  may  be  only  the  "  the  beginnings 
of  sorrows." 


SANCTIFIED    AFFLICTIONS.  115 

But  this,  although  painful,  should  not  surprise  us  ;  we  had 
no  warrant  to  calculate  upon  exemption  from  tribulation. 
In  fact,  we  ought  to  have  laid  our  account  with  passing 
through  "  many  tribulations,"  from  the  time  we  began  to 
walk  in  "  the  narrow  way"  to  heaven.  It  was  "  written^'' 
that  we  should  have  to  do  so  :  it  was  obvious  that  all  who  had 
preceded  us  in  the  way  to  Zion,  had  done  so.  If,  therefore, 
we  flattered  ourselves,  in  the  face  of  all  divine  testimony 
and  of  all  human  experience,  the  flattery  must  have  been 
almost  wilful,  and  altogether  inexcusable.  "  But  no  strange 
tiling  has  befallen"  us,  however  much  we  may  be  startled 
or  staggered  by  our  afflictions.  We  may  see  the  same  crosses 
on  the  shoulders  of  many  of  our  brethren ;  yea,  and  upon 
many  who  are  strangers  to  God  and  godliness,  and  who 
have  thus  no  resource  in  the  day  of  calamity.  Now  if  it  be 
so  hard  to  bear  up  under  heavy  trials,  notwithstanding  all 
that  we  know  of  the  wisdom  of  God,  and  of  the  tenderness 
of  the  Saviour,  how  intolerable  it  must  be  to  suffer  without 
hope ! 

This  is  a  view  of  our  trials,  which  we  ought  never  to 
lose  sight  of.  They  might  have  been  sent  whilst  we  were 
strangers  to  prayer  and  faith  ;  and,  had  they  come  before  we 
fled  to  Christ,  they  might  have  hurried  us  on  to  despera- 
tion, or  hardened  our  hearts  against  the  Gospel.  Weigh 
this  solemn  fact !  We  should  not  have  escaped  from  all 
afflictions,  nor  have  had  any  security  against  our  present 
sufferings,  by  continuing  in  "  the  broad  way  :"  they  might 
have  overtaken  us  there  ;  or  what  is  worse,  God  might  have 
cursed  us,  by  giving  us  our  good  things  in  this  life.  Now, 
if  the  mighty  hand  of  God  had  struck  us  down  whilst  we 
were  afar  off  from  him,  and  unwilling  to  draw  nigh  to  him, 
the  consequences  might  have  been  fatal ;  for,  if  we  almost 
sink  now,  although  we  can  cast  our  burden  on  the  Lord,  we 
must  have  been  overwhelmed,  if  that  burden  had  been  laid 
upon  us  before  we  knew  the  Lord.  And  if,  at  times,  it  al- 
most alienate  some  of  our  feelings  from  him,  by  its  weight ; 
how  easily  might  it  have  set  all  at  the  heart  against  him, 


116  SANCTIFIED      AFFLICTIONS. 

whilst  our  hearts  were  unregenerate  !  This  is  not  such  an 
unusual  effect  of  severe  troubles  as  you  may  imagine.  We, 
indeed,  see  many  brought  to  their  "  right  mind"  by  afflic- 
tion ;  and  therefore  we  are  apt  to  suppose  that  the  natural 
tendency  of  it  is  to  awaken  the  careless,  and  soften  the  ob- 
durate ;  but  whenever  affliction  does  so,  it  is  not  by  its  nat- 
ural influence,  but  because  it  is  overruled  for  good  by  grace. 
Accordingly,  in  those  circles  of  life  where  the  means  of 
grace  are  neglected,  and  the  Gospel  unknown,  the  usual  ef- 
fect of  trouble  is  to  harden  the  heart  against  God,  or  to  pro- 
duce utter  recklessness.  There  are,  indeed,  some  pleasing 
exceptions  to  this  melancholy  fact,  which  occur ;  but  they 
are  very  few ;  and  no  wonder.  How  could  it,  in  the  na- 
ture of  things,  be  otherwise  1  Affliction  is  well  calculated 
to  enforce  whatever  a  man  knows  of  God  and  salvation  ; 
but,  if  he  have  grown  up  in  ignorance  of  the  things  which 
belong  to  his  "  peace"  it  cannot  inform  him  of  these  things. 
Accordingly,  where  they  are  not  known  beforehand,  there  is 
nothing  in  the  mind  to  work  upon,  but  its  own  powers  and 
passions,  and  these  are  rather  irritated  than  subdued  by  the 
rod.  Had,  therefore,  our  severest  trials  come  upon  us 
whilst  we  were  ignorant  and  out  of  the  way,  the  probability 
is,  that  they  would  have  seared  our  conscience,  and  thus 
sealed  our  ruin. 

Another  reconciling  consideration  is — that  our  former 
trials  have  been  positively  useful  to  us.  Our  present  af- 
fliction is  not  the  first ;  we  have  had  the  cup  at  our  lips 
before,  and  if  it  be  bitterer  than  before,  there  is  still  no  ■poi- 
son in  it.  Hitherto  it  has  proved  salutary  in  every  in- 
stance. Accordingly,  we  can  trace  an  intimate  connexion 
between  certain  trials  and  the  formation  of  our  religious 
character :  they  gave  power  and  glory  to  our  views  of  sal- 
vation and  eternity,  and  brought  our  principles  to  the  test ; 
and  assisted  in  breaking  up  bad  habits,  and  in  bringing  down 
bad  tempers ;  for,  before  we  were  afflicted,  we  "  went 
astray."  Upon  our  devotional  character,  especially,  they 
have  had  a  mighty  influence.     The  spirit  of  prayer  might 


SANCTIFIED     AFFLICTIONS.  117 

almost  be  said  to  have  begun  with  the  beginning  of  our 
sorrows  ;  we  came  so  near  to  God,  and  unbosomed  and  un- 
burdened our  souls  so  fully  to  him,  when  his  hand  was  first 
lifted  up  against  us.  We  saw  the  "  needs  be"  for  the  rod 
then,  and  acknowledged  that  in  faithfulness  he  had  afflicted 
us.  Accordingly,  on  looking  back  to  the  devotional  exer- 
cises of  that  time,  and  the  devotional  habits  which  grew 
out  of  them,  we  can  truly  say  with  David,  "  It  was  good 
for  me  that  I  was  afflicted."  Now,  with  all  this  experience, 
why  not  expect  similar  good  from  your  present  afflictions  ? 
They  are  heavier — but  they  are  from  the  same  hand,  and 
from  the  same  heart  too ;  and  therefore  for  the  same  gra- 
cious purpose. 

"  But  they  have  not  the  same  influence,"  some  may  say ; 
"  this  stroke  of  the  rod  has  quite  stunned  me.  My  spirit  is 
so  overwhelmed  within  me,  and  my  mind  so  unhinged  that 
I  cannot  pray  nor  meditate,  nor  do  any  thing  aright.  My 
former  troubles  endeared  the  mercy-seat  and  the  means  of 
grace,  and  seemed  to  bring  with  them  the  strength  and  the 
consolation  required  for  bearing  them  well ;  but  this  calam- 
ity has  swept,  like  a  whirlwind,  all  my  best  principles  and 
feelings  before  it.  Nothing  rises  in  my  heart  but  dark  and 
horrid  thoughts  ;  and  when  I  try  to  pray  them  down,  they 
rise  more  fiercely !  This  is,  indeed,  a  deplorable  case  ; 
but  still,  it  is  only  the  natural  effect  of  the  first  pressure  of 
heavy  woes  ;  they  unsettle  and  upset  the  mind  for  a  time, 
and  we  ourselves  aggravate  their  pressure  by  rash  conclu- 
sions. One  rash  conclusion,  which  we  are  prone  to  draw, 
is — that  we  never  can  get  over  such  a  trial,  nor  be  ourselves 
again.  We  feel  sure  of  this,  and  say  that  it  is  impossible 
ever  to  surmount  it,  or  to  be  happy  again. 

Perhaps  this  is  your  opinion  of  your  own  case.  It  is, 
however,  a  conclusion  utterly  unwarranted  by  Scripture  or 
experience.  Others  have  recovered  from  strokes  of  provi- 
dence equally  stunning.  Asaph  was  quite  as  much  over- 
whelmed as  you  are.  Besides  you  are  not  prepared,  what- 
ever you  may  think  at  present,  to  abide  by  your  own  con- 


118  SANCTIFIED     AFFLICTIONS. 

elusion.  It  is  not  drawn  from  all  the  facts  of  the  case. 
You  are  looldng  only  to  "  the  things  which  are  seen,  and 
temporal,"  and  overlooking  "  the  things  which  are  unseen, 
and  eternal,"  when  you  say  that  all  is  over  in  your  case. 
For  surely  you  have  not  made  up  your  mind  to  brave  and 
bear  eternal  separation  from  God  and  the  Lamb  !  Surely 
you  are  not  willing  to  abandon  your  soul  to  perdition,  be- 
cause your  temporal  interests  are  gone  to  wreck!  You 
cannot  look  a  ruined  eternity  in  the  face,  and  recklessly 
await  its  coming !  Such  horrid  thoughts  may,  indeed,  flash 
across  your  agitated  spirit  for  a  moment ;  but  you  dare  not, 
cannot  dwell  upon  them.  Even  if  you  indulge  them  for  a 
moment,  there  is  a  lurking  hope  that  it  will  not  come  to 
this  :  and  even  when  you  are  most  desperate,  you  are  not 
prepared  to  affirm  that  God  cannot  bring  you  out  of  these 
deep  waters. 

Consider  this  ;  you  are  not  prepared  to  throw  your  pre- 
cious and  immortal  soul  into  the  general  wreck  of  your  hap- 
piness. There  is  enough  lost,  without  losing  that  too  !  Be- 
sides, you  do  not  believe  yourself,  when  you  try  to  say  to 
yourself,  that  all  hope  is  for  ever  gone.  Oh  no  !  you  may 
not  see  how  you  can  be  restored,  but  you  know  that  restor- 
ation is  not  impossible.  You  dare  not  go  the  length  of 
maintaining  that  God  is  your  implacable  and  eternal  enemy. 
You  may  say,  "  What  can  I  think,  seeing  God  has  allowed 
all  this  to  come  upon  me  ?  Is  not  my  calamity  a  token, 
not  only  of  his  anger  and  wrath,  but  of  his  hatred  V  No  ! 
for  grievous  as  it  is,  it  is  less  than  Job's ;  and  in  his  there 
was  no  hatred  at  all.  Besides,  you  once  thought,  and  be- 
lieved, that  God  was  your  friend.  "  Ah,"  you  say,  "  it  is 
the  recollection  of  that  hope  which  aggravates  all  my  mis- 
ery. I  had  begun  to  feel  as  a  child,  and  to  act  as  a  child, 
towards  the  God  of  salvation :  and  I  seemed,  to  myself, 
likely  to  do  well  in  his  service,  until  this  came  upon  me." 
Indeed  !  upon  what  grounds  did  you  then  rest  the  hope  of 
your  sonship  ?  Perhaps  these  grounds  remain  as  open  and 
firm  as  ever  ; — if  they  were  scriptural  grounds,  they  actu- 


SANCTIFIED     AFFLICTIONS.  J 19 

ally  do.  If,  however,  you  took  up  the  hope  of  salvation 
from  the  consideration  that  providence  was  smiling  on  you  ; 
and  thought  God  your  Father,  because  your  temporal  lot 
pleased  you,  you  were  risking  your  soul  in  a  refuge  of  lies  ; 
and  if  so,  your  calamity  is  sent  in  mercy,  to  drive  you  for 
refuge  to  the  hope  set  before  you  in  the  Gospel.  But  if 
you  say,  "  It  was  not  wanted  for  that ;  all  my  hope  of  sal- 
vation and  sonship  was  built,  not  on  any  thing  in  my  tem- 
poral lot,  or  in  my  moral  character,  but  wholly  on  the  Rock 
of  Ages  ;  Christ  was  all  and  all  as  the  ground  of  my  hopes  :" 
if  so,  have  you  not  known — have  you  not  heard  that  Jesus 
Christ  is  "  the  same  yesterday,  to-day,  and  for  ever  V  Then 
all  the  grounds  of  your  hope  do  remain  the  same  as  ever. 
The  foundation  standeth  sure,  whatever  else  is  fallen. 

Now  the  matter  comes  to  a  point ;  for  if  it  be  the  fact  that 
your  hopes  were  not  founded  on,  nor  influenced  by,  the  pr^u- 
idential  tokens  of  Divine  favour  in  your  lot,  but  were  de- 
rived solely  from  the  person  and  work  of  Christ — the  chan- 
ges in  your  lot  ought  not  to  change  hope  into  despair,  see- 
ing the  foundation  of  hope  is  unchanged.  But  you  say,  "  1 
am  sadly  changed  to  the  worse."  In  what  ?  You  wonder 
at  this  question,  and  are  ready  to  say,  "  In  every  thing." 
Now,  you  should,  of  course,  know  best ;  but,  at  present  you 
are  neither  calm  nor  collected,  and  therefore  it  may  be  that 
you  judge  too  rashly.  There  is,  however,  no  doubt  a  mel- 
ancholy change  in  the  frame  of  your  mind,  and  in  your  de- 
votional habits  ;  but  still,  these  are  not  every  thing  in  reli- 
gion :  they  are  important  and  necessary  things  ;  but  they 
are  not  the  whole  of  piety,  nor  yet  the  vital  principle  of  it. 
Faith  in  Christ  is  the  grand  bond  of  union  between  the  soul 
and  God :  and  if  that  bond  be  not  broken,  your  soul  may 
soon  return  to  its  quiet  rest ; — "  cast  down,"  indeed,  "  but 
not  destroyed ;  perplexed,  but  not  in  despair."  But  you 
say,  "  My  faith  is  gone,  as  well  as  my  hope  ;  they  perished 
together,  in  the  day  of  my  calamity."  Indeed !  how  could 
that  be  ?  Your  calamity  made  a  sad  alteration  in  you  ;  but 
it  did  not  alter  the  Saviour,  nor  the  Gospel,  nor  the  promi- 


120  SANCTIFIED     AFFLICTIONS. 

ses  of  God  to  believers.  Perhaps  it  did  not  alter  your 
leading  views  or  convictions  in  regard  to  the  person  and 
work  of  Christ.  If  not,  your  faith  is  not  clean  gone  yet. 
Examine  the  matter  calmly  :  you  were  once  fully  persuad- 
ed of  the  truth,  and  suitableness,  and  value  of  the  Gospel. 
Is  this  persuasion  changed  ?  Is  there  any  part  of  the  Di- 
vine testimony  concerning  Christ,  which  you  now  disbe- 
lieve ?  Do  you  think  less  of  the  Saviour  than  formerly  1 
He  is  not,  of  course,  so  precious  in  your  estimation  as  he 
was,  when  you  could  look  up  to  him  as  your  own  Saviour : 
but  you  still  believe  him  to  be  the  only  Saviour.  In  regard 
to  all  but  yourself,  you  are  fully  persuaded  that  he  is  able  to 
save  to  the  very  uttermost.  How  then  can  you  say,  that 
your  faith  is  utterly  perished  ?  Is  there  no  faith  in  a  firm 
belief  of  all  the  truth  concerning  the  Saviour  ?  If  not,  what 
do  you  mean  by  faith  ? 

Perhaps  you  never  attached  much  importance  to  the  cor- 
dial belief  of  the  truth  itself;  but  have  hitherto,  regarded 
nothing  as  faith,  but  the  reliance  which  you  placed  on  Christ 
for  your  own  salvation  ;  and  therefore,  as  that  reliance  is 
shaken  to  its  very  centre  at  present,  you,  of  course,  con- 
clude that  you  have  no  faith.  Now  it  is  certainly  very 
useless  to  believe  the  truth  concerning  the  Saviour,  without 
trusting  in  him  for  salvation.  It  is,  however,  the  belief  of 
the  truth  concerning  him,  which  is  the  warrant  for  trusting 
in  Him.  You  may  say,  "  I  cannot  trust — cannot  rely,  now: 
God  seems  to  debar  me,  by  visible  tokens  of  his  anger." 
Now,  really,  this  is  a  rash  interpretation  of  his  dealings. 
You  cannot  lay  your  hand  upon  one  text  of  Scripture, 
which  says  that  such  judgments  as  yours  are  fatal  or  final. 
The  whole  tenor  of  Scripture  stamps  them  as  being  falhcrli/ 
chastisements,  inflicted  in  love,  not  in  hatred.  And  as  to 
the  assertion,  that  you  can  no  longer  venture  to  rely  on 
Christ  for  yourself,  it  is  equally  unfounded.  You,  of  course 
believe  and  feel  it  to  be  true  :  but  it  is  not  the  less  false,  in 
itself,  on  that  account.  The  Spirit  of  God  is  just  as  able 
to  enable  you  to  trust  in  Christ  now,  as  when  he  first  won 


SANCTIFIED     AFFLICTIONS.  121 

your  confidence  to  him  ;  and,  for  any  thing  that  appears  to 
the  contrary,  just  as  willing  as  ever.  He  is,  however,  the 
Spirit  of  truth,  and  therefore  works  by  the  truth ;  and  that 
truth  which  you  require  to  see,  in  order  to  the  renewal  of 
your  trust  in  Christ,  is,  that  you  are  warranted  and  welcome 
to  rely  on  Him  for  your  own  salvation,  upon  the  single 
ground  of  still  believing  what  God  has  testified  concerning 
him.  Now,  that  testimony  you  do  believe  with  the  heart 
still :  unhinged  and  overwhelmed  as  your  heart  is  !  You 
have  lost  your  hold  upon  hope  and  peace,  during  this 
stormy  and  dark  day  :  but  you  have  not  lost  hold  of  the  truth 
of  the  Gospel,  Well,  on  this  ground  it  is  both  your  privi- 
lege and  your  duty  to  take  up  hope  again.  Now,  if  you  see 
this  clearly,  the  lesson  is  worth  all  that  you  have  suffered 
in  order  to  learn  it. 

Assuming,  therefore,  that  you  now  see  how  your  faith  in 
Christ  has  secured  your  interest  in  Christ  and  maintained 
it  throughout  all  the  vicissitudes  of  your  case,  what  do  you 
think  of  your  trials,  when  you  view  them  in  this  light  ? 
Your  soul  is  still  safe :  God  is  still  your  friend ;  the  Sa- 
viour has  not  forgotten  you ;  the  Spirit  has  not  forsaken 
you — whatever  you  have  lost  or  suffered.  Is  not  this  an 
up-making  portion?  Does  not  all  this  balance  the  weight 
of  affliction,  and  even  lighten  it  ?  You  may  now  calculate 
upon  grace  to  help,  and  on  strength  to  sustain  you.  "  Hum- 
ble" yourself  under  the  mighty  hand  of  God,  and  he  will 
exalt  you  in  due  season.  This  hot  furnace  was  the  fiery 
trial  of  your  faith,  as  well  as  your  patience ;  and,  accor- 
dingly, it  has  purified  your  faith  from  much  of  its  dross,  and 
increased  its  value  in  your  own  estimation.  And,  is  it  not 
amazing  to  you  to  see  the  glorious  principle  of  salvation  by 
faith,  like  a  rainbow,  spanning  and  spangling  the  dark 
clouds  of  your  calamity !  Can  you  ever  cease  to  wonder  at 
this  wonder  ?  Saved  hy  faith  !  Now  you  can  do  and  en- 
dure, as  seeing  Him  who  is  Invisible. 

VOL.   I. — 11 


122  EXPERIMENTAL   MAXIMS. 

No.  XIII. 
EXPERIMENTAL      MAXIMS. 

"  Hold  the  Mystery  of  Faith  in  a  pure  conscience."  In 
nothing  else  can  it  be  held  with  comfort  or  effect.  When 
a  bad  conscience  gets  between  the  mind  and  the  Gospel,  it 
soon  brings  on  an  almost  total  eclipse  upon  both,  until  the 
gospel  no  longer  appears  what  it  really  is,  and  the  mind  can 
no  longer  apply  it  as  formerly.  How  naturally  and  inevi- 
tably this  should  be  the  effect  of  a  bad  conscience,  you  may 
judge  from  the  fact — that  you  have  found  it  difficult  to  get 
hold,  and  to  keep  hold,  of  the  principle  of  salvation  by  faith, 
notwithstanding  all  your  efforts  to  maintain  a  good  con- 
science towards  God  and  man.  Your  conscience  was,  per- 
haps, never  more  tender  or  watchful  than  during  your  in- 
quiries into  this  principle  ;  and  if,  in  this  state  of  mind,  you 
have  at  one  time  been  afraid  to  call  your  believing,  faith  ; 
and  at  another  time  afraid  to  conclude  that  you  were  justi- 
fied ; — it  is  obvious  that  a  bad  conscience  must  render  such 
conclusions  impossible,  upon  scriptural  or  rational  grounds. 
The  sober  and  solemn  fact  is,  that  the  comforts  of  the  Gos- 
pel are  in  the  hands  of  the  Holy  Spirit ;  and  therefore,  when 
they  are  not  employed  for  holy  purposes,  he  withholds  them, 
or,  what  is  worse,  leaves  the  mind  to  the  infatuation  of  cry- 
ing, "  Peace,"  when  there  is  no  peace.  However  clearly, 
therefore,  you  may  now  see  the  way  of  your  own  salvation 
by  faith,  be  sure  of  this — that  as  soon  as  you  cease  to  strive 
to  maintain  a  good  conscience  towards  God  and  man,  your 
hold  upon  the  Gospel  will  begin  to  relax,  and  continue  to 
lessen,  until  you  sink  into  greater  perplexity  than  ever.  A 
good  hope  cannot  be  held  in  a  bad  conscience. 

"  Let  the  peace  of  God  reign  in  your  hearts.''^  Yes,  let  it! 
Some  do  not  allow  it  to  rule  or  rest  in  their  hearts.  "  We 
have  peace  with  God,  when  the  Holy  Spirit  enables  us  to 
see  and  believe  that  we  are  justified  by  faith :"  but  this 
way  of  arriving  at,  and  retaining,  peace  of  conscience,  is  so 


EXPERIMENTAL    MAXIMS.  123 

different  from  all  our  natural  and  from  the  spirit  of  many  of 
our  acquired,  ideas,  that  we  are  prone  to  flinch  from  it,  or  to 
be  afraid  of  it ;  and  thus  we  unsettle  that  peace  which 
springs  from  believing.  We  talk,  indeed,  of  "  living  a  life 
of  faith ;"  but,  in  general,  this  is  made  to  include  almost 
every  thing  but  faith  itself.  Nor  is  this  the  only  way  in 
wliich  peace  with  God  is  disturbed  and  lost :  it  comes  into 
the  heart  by  believing ;  but  it  comes  to  '  rw/e"  in  the  heart ; 
and,  therefore,  if  it  be  not  allowed  to  sway  its  sceptre  over 
our  habits  and  tempers,  it  will  not  shed  its  sweet  influences 
over  our  hopes.  Oh,  charge  all  that  is  within  you,  to  let  it 
rule  over  you ! 

"  Pray  always  with  all  prayer  and  supplication.^^  If  you 
know  yourself  to  be  a  believer,  you  have  not,  of  course,  to 
pray  for  faith  itself,  but  for  the  increase  and  the  continuance 
of  it ;  nor  for  justification  itself,  but  for  the  habitual  sense 
of  it,  and  for  the  pardon  of  daily  sins  ;  nor  for  sonship  itself, 
but  for  the  spirit  of  adoption  ;  nor  for  the  new  birth  itself,  but 
for  the  progress  and  perfection  of  regeneration  ;  but  what  a 
field — what  occasion — for  frequent  and  fervent  prayer  is 
thus  before  you !  And  you  will  require  to  pray,  until  your 
spirit  be  disembodied  for  praise.  Without  prayer,  you  can- 
not maintain  a  good  conscience  :  without  prayer,  you  cannot 
keep  before  your  mind  the  principles  or  the  facts  of  the  Gos- 
pel, which  have  relieved  you  :  without  praj'er,  the  spirit  of 
adoption  will  evaporate  as  morning  dew :  without  prayer, 
the  joints  and  sinews  of  your  moral  and  religious  character 
will  relax  and  fail.  You  never  can  realize  as  your  Father, 
the  God  you  are  reluctant  to  commune  with.  You  may  call 
him  so  before  others ;  but  you  will  be  unable  to  think  him 
so  in  your  own  mind. 

"  When  thou  art  converted,  strengthen  thy  brethren.''^  Some, 
when  they  discover  the  perfect  simplicity  of  the  Gospel,  and 
see  clearly  that  the  cordial  belief  of  it  is  faith,  and  that  faith 
itself  settles  the  question  of  acceptance  with  God — have  no 
patience  with  those  who  are  groping  their  way  to  these  great 
principles,  and  no  respect  for  those  who  happen  to  state 


124  EXPERIMENTAL    MAXIMS. 

them  less  clearly.  Penitents  are  thus  treated  with  harsh- 
ness ;  and  preachers,  who  are  as  intent  as  any  on  making 
Christ  all  and  all  in  salvation,  are  branded  as  legalists  and 
enemies  of  the  Cross.  Now,  to  say  the  least  of  such  con- 
duct, it  is  really  despicable !  How  can  such  persons  forget 
the  slowness  of  their  own  hearts  to  apprehend  and  believe 
the  whole  of  the  Gospel?  Guard  against  this  censorious 
spirit !  You  did  not  see  your  own  way  or  welcome  at  once, 
nor  soon,  nor  easily.  And  it  is  more  than  probable,  that 
one  halfoi  the  patience,  which  you  have  required  in  your 
own  case,  will  be  quite  sufficient  to  bring  these  humble  in- 
quirers into  the  glorious  liberty  of  the  children  of  God.  For 
they  are  not  unbelievers,  because  unable  yet  to  see  how  faith 
itself  unites  the  soul  to  Christ.  In  general,  they  believe 
with  the  heart  all  the  truth  with  which  God  has  connected 
the  promise  of  salvation ;  so  that,  on  your  own  principles, 
they  are  safe,  without  knowing  that  they  are  so.  "  Strength- 
en,^' therefore,  instead  of  staggering  them. 

'^Be  ye  followers  of  God  as  dear  children^  Much,  both 
of  your  personal  comfort  and  relative  usefulness,  depends 
on  acting  upon  this  principle.  The  theoretic  or  logical  con- 
clusion that  you  are  a  child  of  God,  because  you  believe  in 
Christ,  will  not  last  long,  if  you  cease  to  follow  the  Lord 
fully.  It  is,  however,  equally  true  that  you  will  not  long 
follow  him  fully,  if  you  lose  sight  of  this  conclusion. — He 
who  would  follow  as  a  child  of  God,  must  believe  that  he  is 
a  child  of  God.  Now,  if  you  believe  this  in  your  own  case, 
do  speak  and  act  agreeably  to  your  relationship.  I  do  not 
mean,  of  course,  that  you  should  boast  of,  or  obtrude  on 
others,  the  hope  of  your  sonship  ;  but  you  may,  you  ought, 
to  appear  in  your  real  character.  By  doing  so  habitually, 
you  will  feel  more  and  more  bound  to  cultivate  the  image 
and  spirit  of  a  child  ;  and  others,  seeing  not  only  your  good 
works,  but  your  good  hopes  also,  will  feel  that  religion  o-uj^^ 
the  happiness  it  promises.  Whereas  when  the  careless,  or 
the  undecided,  see  nothing  more  than  practical  godliness  in 
the  pious,  and  hear  nothing  from  them  but  details  of  fears. 


EXPERIMENTAL    MAXIMS.  125 

and  doubts,  and  strivings  ;  they  are  led  to  argue  that  reli- 
gion, however  good,  is  joyless  ;  and  that  the  pious  are  as 
uncertain  as  themselves  of  salvation.  And  what  else  can 
they  think,  if  you  say  nothing  of  your  enjoyments  ?  Casting 
"  pearls  before  swine"  is  wrong  ;  but,  in  general,  wherever 
you  can  speak  of  your  sense  of  duty  with  propriety,  you 
may  say  something  of  your  privileges  and  prospects  too. 

"  Follow  peace  with  all  men,  and  holiness,  without  which 
no  man  shall  see  the  Lord." 

POSTSCRIPT. 

It  may  be  both  pleasing  and  useful  to  you  to  know,  that 
this  little  work,  now  so  widely  circulated,  has  been  blessed 
by  God,  in  a  degree  which  ought  to  be  publicly  acknowl- 
edged. The  history  of  its  usefulness  would  form  a  valuable 
record  :  but,  of  course,  I  dare  not  publish  it. 

11* 


(g©MIMIWlII[®I?S'  WE'iPIEI  ©©IDS 


OR  A 


GUIDE  TO  THE  DEVOTIONAL. 


CONTENTS. 

Page. 

I.  Access  to  God 127 

II.  The  Promises  of  God  to  the  Prayerful,  the  Real  Answers 

to  Prayer          . 136 

III.  The  Affinity  of  Fervent  Prayer  and  Saving  Faith       .         .  146 

IV.  Prayer,  Proof  of  the  Work  and  Witness  of  the  Holy  Spirit  160 
V.  The  actual  Presence  and  Help  of  the  Spirit  in  Prayer     .  167 

VI.  Walking  in  "  the  light,"  essential  to  Fellowship  with  God  175 
VII.  A  Devotional  Spirit   essential   to   the   Enjoyment   of  the 

Promises      .......                   .  184 

VIII.  Devotional  Preparation  for  the  Sanctuary        ,         .         .  193 
IX.  The  Influence  of  Prayer  upon  peace  of  mind  under  the  trials 

ofhfe           .         .         .      • 202 

X.  The  Saviour's  Devotional  Habits 212 

XI.  Communion  with  God  in  Affliction  .         .         .         .218 

XII.  Sacramental  Communion  with  God  and  the  Lamb  .         .  226 


No.  I. 

ACCESS     TO     GOD. 


The  highest  human  honour  is  access  to  the  King.  Even  a 
single  interview  with  the  monarch  is  generally  coveted, 
and,  if  obtained,  never  forgotten.  How  much  more  should 
access  to  the  "  King  Eternal,  Immortal,  and  Invisible,"  be 
prized  and  improved !     But,  alas  !  it  is  not  so  in  general. 

127 


128  ACCESS    TO    GOD. 

We  are  naturally  averse  to  "  draw  nigh  unto  God."  The 
human  mind,  whilst  unaffected  by  eternal  things,  regards 
prayer  rather  as  an  irksome  task  than  as  a  glorious  privi- 
lege. Accordingly  we  invent  or  avail  ourselves  of  excuses 
for  the  neglect  of  prayer,  and  are  not  often  very  sorry  when 
kept  or  called  away  from  the  throne  of  grace.  Even  when 
bowing  before  it  in  secret,  and  M/hilst  no  external  objects 
distract  or  divert  our  minds,  we  are  prone  to  hurry  over 
devotion,  and  but  too  willing  to  return  to  the  world.  The 
social  circle,  or  a  favorite  book,  has,  in  general,  greater 
charm  for  us,  and  can  detain  us  much  longer,  than  the 
mercy-seat  of  God.  We  find  it  easier  to  come  down  from 
the  closet  to  the  parlour,  than  to  go  up  from  the  parlour  to 
the  closet.  "  The  hour  of  prayer"  is  far  less  punctually 
kept  than  the  hour  of  any  secular  or  social  engagement. 
The  time  which  ought  to  be  sacred  to  God  is  often  sacri- 
ficed to  the  world  ;  but  we  seldom  sacrifice  to  God  any  of 
the  time  which  belongs  to  the  world.  In  a  word,  there  is 
nothing  we  have  more  reason  to  be  ashamed  of  than  our 
low  views,  and  our  lower  feelings,  upon  the  subject  of 
secret  prayer. 

And  yet,  prayer  is  access  to  God,  and  may  be  commun- 
ion with  God  !  It  may  be  to  us  what  praise  is  to  angels 
and  glorified  spirits — ^'-fellowship  with  God  and  the  Lamb.^^ 
We  may  come  as  near  to  the  Eternal  Mind  in  prayer,  as 
they  come  to  the  eternal  throne  in  praise.  What  then 
ought  we  to  think  of  our  reluctance  to  pray  ?  Were  any 
angel  or  spirit  in  heaven  half  as  reluctant  to  sing  the  nev/ 
song,  or  to  lay  his  crown  at  the  feet  of  the  Lamb,  we  should 
condemn  him  at  once,  and  expect  his  expulsion  from  heav- 
en. We  should  no  more  think  of  excusing  or  palliating 
his  conduct,  than  that  of  "  the  angels  who  kept  not  their 
first  estate  ;"  nor  would  his  imprisonment  in  their  chains  of 
darkness,  nor  his  impalement  in  their  penal  fires,  surprise 
us.  Thus  promptly  and  justly  do  we  judge,  in  the  case  of 
those  who  have  "  access"  to  God  in  heaven.  We  expect 
them  to  "  serve  Him  without  weariness^     Let  not  the  im- 


ACCESS    TO    GOD.  129 

pression  of  this  supposed  case  be  defeated  by  the  fact  that 
the  spirits  in  heaven  have  nothing  else  to  do.  The  differ- 
ence between  their  lot  and  our  own  is,  indeed,  immense. 
They  have  no  cares,  no  corruptions,  nor  temptations  to 
hinder  or  harass  them  ;  but 

"  What  various  hinderances  we  meet, 
In  coming  to  the  mercy-seat  !" 

True ;  and  just  because  they  are  many  and  great,  the  great- 
er need  we  have  for  coming  often  and  regularly,  that  we 
may  obtain  mercy  and  find  grace  to  help.  For  if  glorified 
spirits  could  neither  be  happy  nor  safe  without  communion 
with  God,  how  much  less  can  we  be  happy  without  it  in  a 
world  so  trying,  or  safe  in  a  world  so  ensnaring  !  They 
need  communion  with  God,  in  order  to  sustain  their  "eter- 
nal weight  of  glory  ;"  how  much  more  do  we  need  it  in 
order  to  sustain  our  patience  under  afflictions,  and  our 
character  amidst  temptations ! 

It  will  assist  us  still  further,  in  forming  a  just  judgment 
of  our  own  hearts  and  habits,  if  we  review  some  of  the 
instances  of  special  "  access"  to  God,  which  have  been 
vouchsafed  "at  sundry  times,  and  in  divers  manners,  to  the 
fathers."  Under  the  Law,  the  high  priest  had  access,  an- 
nually, to  the  mercy-seat  in  the  holy  of  holies  ;  and,  when 
within  the  vail,  God  communed  with  him  from  between  the 
cherubim.  He  could  say  with  certainty,  as  he  entered 
with  blood  and  incense,  "  /  will  hear  what  God,  the  Lord, 
will  speali ;  for  He  will  speak  peace  to  his  people J^  Now, 
with  such  an  introduction  as  the  typical  blood  of  atonement, 
and  such  a  welcome  awaiting  him,  what  should  we  have 
thought  and  said  of  the  highpriest,  if  he  had  neglected  to 
go  into  the  holy  of  holies,  or  had  not  gone  up  to  the  mercy- 
seat,  or  had  come  out  before  he  heard  what  God,  the  Lord, 
would  speak  ?  Had  any  priest  been  guilty  of  this  neglect, 
all  hearts  would  have  been  shocked  at  his  impiety,  and  all 
voices  united  in  condemning  him.  We  should  have  ex- 
pected to  hear  that,  like  the  off*erers  of  "  strange  fire,"  he 


130  ACCESS    TO    GOD. 

was  suddenly  and  signally  consumed  by  penal  fire.  You 
feel  this  through  all  your  soul,  and  are  glad  that  there  is  no 
instance  of  a  highpriest  neglecting  to  draw  nigh  to  God, 
when  within  the  vail.  But  is  it  not  more  shocking  and 
sinful  not  to  draw  nigh  to  God,  now  that  the  eternal  throne 
is  the  mercy-seat,  and  the  blood  of  the  Lamb  our  introduc- 
tion and  plea  ?  That  precious  "  blood"  is  both  the  plea  for, 
and  the  pledge  of,  our  success  in  prayer.  And  access  to 
God  on  the  mercy-seat  is  now  daily.  At  all  times,  in  all 
places,  and  under  all  circumstances,  we  may  "  come  boldly 
to  the  throne  of  grace,  to  obtain  mercy,  and  find  grace  to 
help  in  time  of  need."  Why,  then,  is  this  freedom  of  ac- 
cess so  little  prized  or  improved  1  We  cannot  say  that  it 
is  less  interesting  to  enter  our  closets  to  commune  with 
God,  than  it  was  to  enter  the  holy  of  holies.  The  scene 
is,  indeed,  less  impressive  in  its  external  circumstances,  and 
it  makes  no  appeal  to  our  senses  ;  but,  when  it  is  duly  ex- 
amined, it  is  really  more  useful  than  all  the  glories  of  the 
holy  of  holies.  The  ark  of  the  covenant  was,  no  doubt, 
splendid,  and  the  golden  mercy-seat  sublime,  and  the  cher- 
ubim majestic,  and  the  cloud  of  glory,  crowning  the  whole, 
effulgent ;  but  the  whole  were  only  "  shadows  of  good 
things  to  come  ;"  whereas  we  have  in  our  closets,  the  "  good 
things"  themselves.  There  we  may  behold  the  brightness 
of  the  Father's  glory,  in  the  face  of  Jesus ;  and  see,  in  his 
person  and  work,  the  substance  of  all  that  was  shadowed 
within  the  vail,  and  more  than  all  that  was  typified  through- 
out the  temple.  Our  perfect  and  preserved  Bible  is,  itself, 
more  wonderful  and  glorious  than  "  the  cloud  of  glory." 
That  Shechinah  of  the  divine  presence  was,  even  when  its 
radiance  "  filled  the  temple,"  a  dark  cloud,  compared  with 
the  light  which  is  imbodied  in  and  shines  from  the  sun  of 
Scripture.  Possessing  this  great  and  true  light,  we  have 
no  need  to  regret  the  loss  of  any  thing  which  the  ancient 
temple  contained  :  for  this  light  shows  God  to  be  all,  and 
to  be  doing  all,  upon  tbe  throne  of  grace  in  heaven,  that 
he  was  and  did  upon  the  mercy-seat  on  earth.     If,  indeed, 


ACCESS    TO     GOD.  131 

God  had  become  less  accessible,  less  sympathizing,  or  less 
faithful  in  reference  to  prayer,  than  he  was  in  the  temple, 
there  would  be  reason  to  regret  our  transfer  from  the  temple 
to  the  closet ;  but,  as  God  himself  is  the  same  for  ever — 
his  heart  the  same  in  kindness — his  hand  the  same  in 
bounty  and  power — the  changes  of  place  and  circumstances 
are  of  no  consequence  whatever.  All  the  real  value  of  the 
holy  of  holies  and  its  magnificent  mercy-seat  was — that 
there  God  heard  and  answered  prayer.  But  for  that,  and 
what  they  typified  of  Christ,  they  would  have  been  mere 
gorgeous  ornaments  :  and,  as  types  are  now  useless,  and 
the  answer  of  prayer  secured  by  the  intercession  of  Christ, 
the  "  closet"  is  preferable  to  the  temple,  if  communion  with 
God  be  our  object.  For,  in  the  "  closet  God  is  "  all  in 
ALL  !"  When  we  retire  to  it,  we  meet  God  only :  we  speak 
to  God  alone. 

Alone  with  God  :  How  solemn  and  sublime  !  Such  ac- 
cess to  him  has  no  parallel  in  heaven  itself.  It  is  as  if  all 
the  spirits  around  the  eternal  throne  were  moved  back  to 
"  the  borders  of  Emmanuel's  land,"  whenever  a  new  spirit 
was  about  to  enter ;  that  thus  its  first  interview  might  be 
with  God  alone,  and  its  first  emotions  seen  only  by  Him. 
Drawing  nigh  to  God  in  the  closet  has  all  the  secrecy,  and 
none  of  the  overwhelming  solemnity,  of  such  an  interview. 

The  soul  is  there  with  God  alone,  as  if  it  alone  engaged 
all  his  notice.  It  has  God  av holly  to  itself;  and  may  un- 
bosom and  plead  as  if  He  had  no  one  else  to  attend  unto  at 
the  moment. 

We  could  not  have  entered  within  the  vail  of  the  temple, 
even  if  Ave  had  lived  when  the  temple  was  in  all  its  glory : 
but,  if  we  could  have  entered  to  pray  before  the  mercy- 
seat,  what  would  it  have  been  compared  with  thus  meeting, 
in  the  "  closet,"  with  nothing  but  God,  and  with  God  all  to 
ourselves  ?  Oh,  why  should  we  ever  be  reluctant  to  pray, 
or  heartless  in  prayer  ?  Secret  prayer  is  a  private  inter- 
view with  God,  as  real  as  that  at  the  bush  in  Midian,  or 
that  on  mount  Peniel,  vouchsafed  to  Moses  and  Jacob.     If, 


132  ACCESS     TO    GOD. 

therefore,  we  would  readily  welcome  such  visits  from  God 
as  the  Patriarchs  were  favoured  with,  and  would  consider 
even  one  visit  to  be,  on  his  part,  an  act  of  infinite  con- 
descension, what  ought  we  to  think  of  the  daily  privilege 
of  visiting  God  in  secret,  and  being  noticed,  heard,  and  re- 
membered by  Him,  for  good  ?  Do  consider  ;  in  the  "  closet" 
we  are  allowed  to  say  all  unto  God  that  we  could  wish  to 
say  if  we  were  praying  upon  the  very  spot  where  arch- 
angels adore  and  redeemed  spirits  sing.  There  is  no  note 
on  the  harp  of  Gabriel  more  welcome  to  Jehovah  than  the 
cry  of  a  penitent  for  mercy,  or  the  supplication  of  a  child 
for  grace.  God  makes  it  even  a  condition  of  coming  to 
Him,  that  we  "believe  that  he  is  the  re  warder  of  them  who 
diligently  seek  Him."  Think  of  all  the  armies  of  heaven 
rolling  from  their  harps  the  anthems  of  eternity.  Are  they 
noticed  and  approved  ?  Hear,  then,  the  voice  of  God  out- 
speaking the  chorus  of  heaven !  "  Thus  saith  the  High 
and  Holy  One,  who  inhabiteth  eternity,  unto  that  man  will 
I  look,  and  with  that  man  will  I  dwell,  who  is  of  a  contrite 
spirit,  and  who  trembleth  at  my  word."  Truly  prayer  is 
"  access  to  God  !"  He  dwells  with  the  prayerful,  as  he  in- 
habits eternity ; — actually,  willingly,  and  with  delight. 
How  willingly  and  cheerfully,  therefore,  ought  we  to  enter 
into  our  closets,  and  pray  to  the  Father  who  seeth  in  se- 
cret, and  rewardeth  openly!  Oh,  had  Job  known  all  this 
as  clearly  as  we  do,  how  would  he  have  prized  and  improv- 
ed such  access  and  welcome  to  God  !  He  would  not  have 
grudged  the  time,  nor  shrunk  from  the  effort,  required  in 
drawing  nigh  unto  God.  When  he  exclaimed,  "  0  that  I 
knew  where  I  might  Jind  Him^  that  I  might  come  even  to  his 
seat  /"  he  would  have  gladly  gone  any  where  to  find  God. 
If  "  His  seat"  had  been  on  the  loftiest  and  coldest  summit 
of  Lebanon,  and  Lebanon  quaking  like  Sinai,  Job  would 
have  climbed  it,  to  meet  God  in  mercy.  If  "  His  seat" 
had  been  in  the  depths  of  the  most  desolate  wilderness,  or 
at  the  uttermost  parts  of  the  sea.  Job  would  have  travelled 
to  it  willingly,  to  "  order  his  cause  before  God."     We  feel 


ACCESS     TO     GOD.  133 

sure  of  this  ;  it  being  so  consistent  with  the  patriarch's 
character.  Indeed  we  should  have  readily  blamed  him,  in 
the  upbraiding  spirit  of  his  three  friends,  if  he  had  been 
unwilling  to  go  any  where  to  find  God.  Well;  we  know 
where  to  find  God. 

"  We  have  no  such  lengths  to  go  ;" 

no  such  question  to  ask.  We  know  where  he  "  waiteth  to 
be  gracious."  God  is  always  to  be  found  at  our  own  home, 
when  we  seek  him  with  the  whole  heart.  More  intimate 
communion  may  be  found  with  him  in  the  closet  at  home, 
than  was  found  in  the  ancient  temple,  even  by  those  who 
travelled  from  Dan  and  Beersheba  to  appear  before  God  in 
Zion.  They  could  not  enter  into  the  holy  place  made  with 
hands,  but  had  to  worship  afar  off;  "/or  the  Law  jnade 
jwthing  perfect  ;  hut  the  bringing  of  a  better  hope  did ;  by 
the  which  we  draw  nigh  unto  God."  Well,  therefore,  might 
Paul  add,  "  Having,  therefore,  brethren,  boldness  (freedom) 
to  enter  into  the  Holiest  by  the  blood  of  Jesus,  by  a  new  and 
living  way,  which  he  hath  consecrated  for  us,  through  the 
vail ;  -and  having  a  High  Priest  over  the  house  of  God  ;  let 
us  draw  near  with  a  true  heart,  in  full  assurance  of  faith?"* 
Thus  it  is,  that  "  access"  to  God  is  the  pledge  of  accept- 
ance with  God.  And,  until  this  be  understood  and  be- 
lieved, neither  the  duty  nor  the  privilege  of  secret  prayer 
will  have  much  influence  upon  our  hearts  or  habits.  So 
long  as  we  have  any  doubt,  or  feel  it  but  a  "  peradventure," 
whether  we  shall  really  "  obtain  mercy,  and  find  grace," 
we  shall  not  come  often  nor  willingly  to  the  throne  of  grace. 
While  prayer  is  at  all  regarded  as  hopeless  work,  it  Avill 
continue  to  be  heartless  work. 

Now,  many  do  doubt  very  much,  whether  they  shall  suc- 
ceed in  asking  for  salvation  ;  and  they  are  very  much  con- 
firmed in  this  habit  of  doubting,  by  observing  some  who 
have  prayed  much  and  long,  but  who  are  yet,  by  their  own 
confession,  quite  uncertain  as  to  their  own  acceptance  with 
12 


134  ACCESS    TO     G  OD. 

God.  Such  persons  are  not  exactly  hopeless,  nor  do  they 
insinuate  any  thing  against  the  efficacy  of  prayer  ;  but  they 
have  so  little  hope,  and  that  little  is  so  fluctuating,  that  the 
witnesses  of  it  are  not  much  encouraged  to  pray  from  their 
example.  We  have  felt  this,  when  we  have  found  some 
man  of  prayer  a  man  of  fear.  And  as  we  do  feel,  and 
ought  to  feel,  that  God  might  justly  refuse  to  answer  our 
prayers  for  salvation  ;  and  as  we  see  that  He  seems,  in 
some  instances,  to  refuse  peace  to  better  men,  we  are  thus 
led  into  a  suspicion  of  His  willingness  to  save  us.  And 
this  doubting  habit  is  still  farther  confirmed,  when  our  own 
experience  in  prayer  is  similar  to  that  of  the  person  just 
described.  When  we  find  that  but  little  hope,  and  no  cer- 
tainty, follows  our  own  prayers  ;  and  that  we  obtain  no 
solid  peace  or  enjoyment ;  and  that  the  result  is  still  as 
doubtful  as  ever ;  and  that  we  know  not  what  to  think  of 
our  case  :  we  are  thus  drawn  farther  and  farther  into  the 
wards  of  Doubting  Castle,  away  and  from  the  throne  of 
grace. 

Now,  under  these  circumstances,  it  is  not  by  splendid 
descriptions  of  that  "  glorious  high  throne,"  nor  by  glowing 
pictures  of  the  solemnity  or  sweetness  of  prayer,  nor  by 
strong  assertions  about  angels  not  being  more  welcome,  nor 
even  by  appeals  to  the  success  of  others  ; — it  is  not  by 
these  things  alone,  nor  chiefly,  that  we  can  be  charmed 
back  to  the  throne,  or  kept  near  it.  These  things  have 
much  weight,  and  a  sweet  influence  upon  the  mind,  whilst 
the  mind  can  cherish  the  hQpe  of  eventual  success  ;  but, 
wliilst  that  is  doubted,  they  will  not  render  us  truly  devo- 
tional. Indeed,  we  shall  never  pray  much,  nor  with  much 
pleasure,  until  we  are  persuaded  that  we  shall  not  pray  in 
vain.  Access  to  God  will  be  prized,  just  in  proportion  as 
we  feel  sure  of  acceptance  with  God. 

"  Is  it,  then,"  it  will  be  said  by  some,  "our  duty  to  be- 
lieve that  we  shall  find  the  mercy  we  pray  for  ?  Are  we 
warranted  and  bound  to  calculate  upon  acceptance  with 
God,  when  we  have  sought  it  with  all  our  heart  and  souH" 


ACCESS     TO    GOD.  135 

Wliat  saitli  the  Scriptures  ?  For  we  ought  to  take  no  word, 
but  the  word  of  God,  on  this  subject.  Now  the  Scripture 
speaketh  expressly  on  the  point :  "  He  that  cometh  to  God 
MUST  believe  that  he  is  the  rewarder  of  them  that  diligently 
seek  him.''  And  again,  "  Whosoever  shall  call  upon  the 
name  of  the  Lord  shall  be  saved''  Thus  both  the  promise 
and  the  precept  render  it  the  duty  of  the  prayerful  to  be- 
lieve that  "  through  the  grace  of  our  Lord  Jesus  Christ" 
they  shall  be  saved.  It  is  by  overlooking  this  grand  fact 
that  so  many  of  the  prayerful  are  fearful.  They  watch, 
indeed,  for  answers  to  their  prayers  ;  but  they  look  unto 
their  own  hearts  for  them,  instead  of  looking  also  to  the 
word  of  God.  This  is  a  grievous  mistake.  The  state  of 
our  hearts  should  not,  indeed,  be  overlooked  ;  but,  whilst 
this  is  true,  it  is  equally  true  that  our  hearts  cannot  feel 
what  we  do  not  believe.  If,  after  praying  fervently  for 
MERCY,  we  sit  down  to  examine  solemnly  whether  we  feel 
any  hope,  peace,  or  joy,  springing  up  in  our  hearts,  we 
ought  not  to  be  surprised  if  we  feel  nothing  of  the  kind,  so 
long  as  our  attention  is  confined  to  our  hearts.  The  an- 
swer to  such  prayers  is  in  God's  promises  to  the  prayerful; 
and,  therefore,  until  they  are  noticed  and  believed,  we  can- 
not feel  that  our  prayers  are  answered.  It  is  what  God 
has  written  that  produces  what  should  be  felt ;  and  it  is  by 
believing  what  he  has  promised  that  hope  and  peace  arise 
in  the  mind.  Now  God  has  promised  that  "  whosoever 
shall  call  upon  the  name  of  the  Lord  shall  be  saved."  If, 
therefore,  we  are  conscious  of  having  sought,  in  good  earn- 
est the  salvation  of  God,  by  the  blood  of  the  Lamb,  and  for 
holy  purposes,  it  is  now^  as  much  our  duty  to  believe  that 
we  shall  be  saved,  as  it  was  our  duty  to  pray  for  it.  Our 
salvation  began,  in  fact,  when  we  began  to  seek  it  with 
our  whole  heart ;  and  it  will  go  on,  in  holiness  and  happi- 
ness, just  in  proportion  as  we  cultivate  devotional  habits. 
Indeed,  a  devotional  spirit  is  itself  one  of  the  chief  parts  of 
personal  salvation,  and  both  the  pledge  and  prelude  of  the 
whole. 


136  THE    PROMISES    OF    GOD 

It  is  when  these  things  are  understood  by  the  prayerful, 
that  the  closet  becomes,  like  the  house  of  God,  "  the  gate 
of  heaven ;  and  that  we  obey  the  call  to  "  enter"  it,  with 
something  of  the  same  spirit  in  which  we  wish  to  welcome 
the  invitation  of  the  Judge,  when  he  shall  say  from  the 
great  white  throne,  "  Come,  ye  blessed,  inherit  the  kingdom 
prepared  for  youT  No  one  "  on  the  right  hand"  will  refuse 
or  hesitate  to  enter  the  "  kingdom"  then  ;  and  no  one  who 
believes  that  access  to  God  is  in  order  to  acceptance  with 
God,  will  refuse  to  enter  the  "  closet"  now.  For  the 
prayerless  do  not  believe  in  the  efficacy  of  prayer. 


No.  II. 

THE  PROMISES  OF  GOD  TO  THE  PRAYERFUL 
THE  REAL  ANSWERS  TO  PRAYER. 

No  complaint  is  more  common,  amongst  one  class  of 
those  who  pray  in  good  earnest  for  mercy  and  grace,  than 
that  they  obtain  no  answer  to  their  prayers.  Their  strong 
cries  for  pardon,  although  often  uttered  "  with  tears,"  are 
not  followed  by  a  sense  of  pardon.  The  groanings  of  their 
spirit  for  peace  with  God,  although  "unutterable,"  owing 
to  their  depth,  are  not  followed  by  any  calm  of  conscience. 
Even  their  entreaties  for  some  &sme  faint  gleam  of  hope, 
lead,  to  little  more  than  the  suppression  of  absolute  despair, 
and  not  always  to  that. 

I  In  such  cases,  it  is  no  wonder  that  complaints  should  be 
uttered,  and  dejection  felt.  "  Hope  deferred  maketh  the 
heart  sick"  It  does  not,  however,  harden  the  heart.  Ac- 
cordingly, the  complaints  of  the  disappointed  breathe  no 
charge  or  insinuation  against  the  faithfulness  of  God,  and 
imply  no  reflection  upon  his  character.  The  unsuccessful 
suppliants  lay  all   the  blame  upon  themselves ;  and  even 


THE      ANSWERS      TO      PRAYER.  137 

tliose  of  them  who  resolve  their  faikire  into  sovereignty,  do 
not  impeach  the  justice  of  that  sovereignty.  They  feel 
their  own  utter  unworthiness,  and  see  clearly  that  they 
have  no  personal  or  legal  claim  upon  the  mercy  of  God  ; 
and  under  this  conviction,  all  their  complaints  are  deep  re- 
grets, and  never,  in  calm  moments,  murmurings  or  upbraid- 
ings.  Whilst  they  exclaim,  with  David,  "  O  my  God,  I 
cry  in  the  daytime,  but  thou  hearest  not  ;  and  in  the  night 
season,  and  am  not  silent ;" — they  add  with  him,  "  But  thou 
art  holy,  0  thou  that  inhahitcst  the  praises  of  Israel ; — /  am 
a  worm,  and  no  man.""  Thus  they  find,  in  the  holiness  of 
the  divine  character,  and  in  the  unholiness  of  their  own 
character,  overwhelming  and  silencing  reasons  for  their 
want  of  success  in  prayer. 

Now  there  is  so  much  real  himiility  in  this  state  of  mind, 
and  it  is  so  like  the  temper  of  David,  and  of  other  true 
penitents  under  the  Old  Covenant,  that  no  minister  of  the 
New  Covenant  would  hesitate  to  encourage  such  persons. 
He  is  not,  however,  an  "  ahW'  minister  of  the  New  Cove- 
nant who  merely  assures  them,  "  that  delay  is  not  denial," 
even  if  he  add  to  that  proverb  the  sacred  oracle,  "  Though 
the  vision  tarry,  wait  for  it^  There  is,  indeed,  much  truth, 
and  encouragement  too,  both  in  the  proverb  and  the  oracle. 
In  reference  to  many  things,  pertaining  to  life  and  godli- 
ness, they  can  hardly  be  too  often  remembered,  nor  too 
strictly  applied,  by  the  prayerful.  They  are  not,  however, 
very  applicable,  nor  intended  to  apply,  to  the  case  of  fer- 
vent prayer  for  a  personal  interest  in  great  salvation.  In 
the  matter  of  hope  or  peace,  there  is  happily,  neither  de- 
nial or  delay  on  the  part  of  God.  "  He  that  asketh,  receiv- 
eth ;  and  he  that  seeketh,  findeth  ;"  whether  he  knoweth  or 
not  the  time.  The  vision  itself  does  not  "  tarry,"  however 
long  and  slow  the  prayerful  are  in  discovering  it.  The 
message  sent  to  Daniel,  after  his  fervent  prayers,  is  in  ef- 
fect, the  assurance  given  to  every  one  who  is  seriously 
seeking  for  mercy  and  grace,  through  the  blood  of  the 
Lamb  : — "  Fear  not ;  for  from  the  first  day  that  thou  didst 
12* 


13S  THE     PROMISES     OF     GOD. 

net  thine  heart  to  undcrsta?id,  and  to  chasten  thyself  before 
thy  God,  thy  icords  were  hcardy  In  the  case  of  Daniel,  an 
angel,  indeed,  was  the  bearer  of  this  assurance  ;  and  in 
our  case  no  such  messenger  is  vouchsafed.  An  apostle  of 
the  Lamb,  however,  assures  us,  upon  the  same  authority, 
that  "  if  we  ask  any  thing  according  to  His  will,  God  hear- 
eth  us.'^  John  calls  this  "  the  confidence, ^^  which  the  pray- 
erful have  in  God  ;  and  adds,  "  If  we  know  that  he  hear  us, 
whatsoever  we  ask,  we  know  that  we  have  (or  shall  have)  the 
petitions  we  desired  of  him^  1  John  v.  14,  15.  This  is, 
indeed,  strong  language,  and  must  seem  strange  to  those 
who  have  never  duly  considered  it  before.  But  it  is  not 
stronger  than,  nor  at  all  different  from,  that  employed  by 
the  Saviour,  when  he  enforced  and  encouraged  secret 
prayer.  "  Ask"  said  Christ,  and  it  shall  be  given  you  ; 
seek,  and* ye  shall  find  ;  knock,  and  it  shall  be  opened  unto 
you."  "  For  every  one  that  askcth,  recciveth  ;  and  he  that 
seeketh,findeth  ;  and  to  him  that  knock^th,  it  shall  be  opened." 
Matt.  vii.  7,  8.  In  all  this  we  hear  nothing,  and  see  no- 
thing, that  sanctions  or  suggests  the  popular  notion  of  de- 
nial or  delay. 

There  are,  indeed,  instances  both  of  denial  and  delay  to 
be  found  in  the  Scriptures.  Paul  besought  the  Lord 
"  thrice,"  that  the  thorn  in  the  flesh  might  be  removed  from 
him ;  but  his  request  was  not  complied  with.  It  was  not 
thus,  however,  that  his  fervent  prayers  at  Damascus  were 
treated.  There,  he  was  praying  for  his  soul,  and  for  sal- 
vation ;  and,  at  the  end  of  three  days,  Ananias  was  sent 
to  assure  him  that  he  had  obtained  mercy  and  found  grace. 
Now  this  fact  is  characteristic  of  God's  usual  plan  in  an- 
swering prayer.  When  the  blessings  prayed  for  are  tem- 
poral things,  or  those  spiritual  things  which  belong  to  the 
prosperity,  rather  than  to  the  safety,  of  the  soul,  there  is 
often,  in  the  former  case,  denial ;  and  in  the  latter,  delay: 
but  when  the  prayer  is,  like  that  of  the  publican,  for  mercy, 
the  prayerful,  like  the  publican,  go  down  to  their  "  house 
justified ;  for  he  that  humble  ih  himself  shall  be  exalted." 


THE     ANSWERS     TO     PRAYER.  139 

Matt,  xviii.  14.  Thus  it  is  that  denial,  when  it  occurs  in 
the  case  of  the  humble,  regards  temporal  things  only ;  and 
delay,  when  it  occurs,  is  always  owing  to  some  defect  of 
their  humility.  This  is  one  general  principle  of  God's 
plan  of  answering  prayer.  Another  is,  that,  if  we  regard 
sin  in  our  hearts,  "  the  Lord  will  not  hear  us."  Agreeably 
to  this  high  and  holy  principle,  James  explained  the  un- 
answered prayers  of  the  Jewish  converts  :  "  Ye  ask,  and 
receive  not,  because  ye  ask  amiss,  that  ye  may  consume  it  up- 
on your  lustsy  James  iv.  3.  Whoever,  therefore,  seeks 
mercy  or  grace  for  unholy,  or  not  for  holy,  purposes,  is  sure 
to  be  denied.  All  grace  is  for  gracious  purposes  ;  and  all 
mercy  to  promote  holiness.  A  third  principle  of  God's 
plan  of  answering  prayer  is,  that  we  "  must  believe  that 
He  is  the  rewarder  of  them  who  diligently  seek  him." 
Hence,  the  express  and  authoritative  injunction  to  every 
praying  man,  "  Let  him  ask  in  faith,  nothing  icavering,  (or, 
undoubtingly  '.)  for  he  that  wavereth  (doubteth)  is  like  a  wave 
of  the  sea  driven  with  the  uind  and  tossed.  For  let  not  that 
man  think  that  he  shall  receive  any  thing  of  the  Lord.''^  James 
i.  6,  7.  Thus,  without  faith  in  prayer,  it  is  impossible  to 
please  God  ;  and,  therefore,  useless  to  expect  answers  toil 
from  God.  F.pr  as  he  who  does  not  believe  that  God  "  is," 
will  not  seek  Hiiftf'at  all ;  so  he  who  does  not  believe  that 
God  is  the  rewarder  of  them  that  diligently  seek  him,  will 
not  find  him  at  all.  Unbelieving  prayer  will  always  be  un- 
profitable prayer. 

We  have  now  before  us  the  three  chief  principles  v/hich 
regulate  the  answers  to  prayer.  By  them,  therefore,  let  us 
judge  the  real  character  of  our  ow7\  prayers.  First — 
Have  we  prayed  humbly  ?  This  is  a  question  which  we 
can  answer.  We  know  the  spirit  in  which  we  poured  out 
strong  cries  and  tears  unto  God  for  mercy.  We  remember 
distinctly  how  our  souls  longed  and  thirsted,  and  wrestled, 
for  salvation.  We  can  never  forget  how  a  sense  of  its 
greatness,  and  of  our  own  imworthiness,  pressed  upon  our 
hearts.     W^e  saw  and  felt  that  there  was  nothing  between 


140  THE     PROMISES     OF    GOD 

US  and  perishing  but  the  blood  of  the  Lamb  ;  that  we  had 
nothing  to  say  for,  but  all  against,  ourselves  ;  and  that  we 
could  do  nothing  but  cry  for  mercy.  Peter,  when  sinking 
in  the  waves — the  Publican,  when  smiting  on  his  breast — 
and  the  dying  thief,  when  exclaiming,  "  Lord,  remember 
me  !"  were,  at  once,  our  examples  and  our  encouragement, 
during  those  solemn  moments  of  secret  prayer.  And  though, 
on  looking  back  to  those  penitential  approaches  to  God,  we 
feel  that  they  are  not  so  humble  as  they  ought  to  have  been, 
and  remember  that,  at  the  time,  we  felt  anxious  to  sink 
lower  in  self-abasement,  and  ashamed  because  our  spirit 
was  not  more  broken  and  contrite  ;  still,  when  compared 
with  our  former  state  of  mind,  and  when  tried  by  the  char- 
acter of  the  natural  mind,  we  cannot  but  think  that,  what- 
ever else  our  prayers  were  then,  they  were  truly  humble  : 
at  least,  we  intended  them  to  be,  and  tried  to  make  them 
truly  humble.  We  were  not  conscious,  at  the  moment,  of 
any  pride,  or  self-dependance.  We  meant  nothing  of  the 
kind,  but  were  intent  upon  humbling  ourselves  before  God, 
and  upon  repenting  in  dust  and  ashes.  We  were  not,  in- 
deed, satisfied,  at  the  time,  with  either  our  humility  or  our 
penitence  ;  but  wished  both  to  be  deeper.  We  were  not, 
however,  pretending,  nor  holding  back  our  hearts  from 
shame  or  sorrow.  Accordingly,  we  feel  now,  that — what- 
ever else  was  the  defect  of  our  prayers  for  mercy,  and  what- 
ever be  the  result  of  them — we  were  not  insincere  nor 
heartless  in  them. 

Well,  this  is  the  kind  of  prayer  which  God  has  promised 
to  answer.  And  I  thus  endeavour  to  characterize  it,  and  to 
compare  it  with  prayers  which  have  been  answered,  that 
we  may  see  and  feel  that  we  have  sought  the  Lord  with  our 
whole  heart.  It  is  of  great  importance  to  be  sure  of  this  : 
for,  whilst  we  are  not  sure  that  we  have  prayed  aright,  we 
cannot  believe  aright  the  promises  made  to  the  prayerful. 
Settle  it,  therefore,  in  your  minds,  that  as  surely  as  you 
have  mourned,  and  been  in  bitterness  of  soul  before  God, 
whilst  looking  upon   the  Saviour  whom   your   sins  have 


THE     ANSWERS     TO     PRAYER.  141 

pierced,  so  surely  has  "  the  spirit  of  grace  and  supplica- 
tion" been  poured  out  upon  you  from  on  high.  Yes,  you 
have  been  "  taught"  to  pray,  who  have  thus  cried  mightily 
unto  God.  And  as  you  do  not  and  cannot  forget  these 
prayers,  neither  will  God  forget  or  refuse  to  answer  them. 

Secondly, — Have  we  had  a  holy  design  in  our  prayers  ? 
It  is  of  equal  importance  to  be  sure  of  this  also.  And,  as 
in  the  former  case,  we  can  answer  the  question.  We  know 
whether  we  are  in  good  earnest  to  be  saved  from  sin,  as 
well  as  from  hell.  We  remember  distinctly  how  we  felt, 
and  intended,  and  resolved,  in  regard  to  the  sins  which  had 
dominion  over  us.  There  was,  indeed,  a  struggle  at  the 
idea  of  giving  them  up,  and  many  a  fear  lest  they  should 
regain  the  mastery.  But  we  did  not  wish  to  keep  them, 
nor  to  come  under  their  bondage  again.  Our  desire  was, 
that  God  would  not  only  forgive  us  sins,  but  also  "  cleanse 
us  from  all  iniquity."  We  knew  the  fact,  and  were  not 
dissatisfied  with  it,  that  if  we  regarded  sin  in  our  hearts 
the  Lord  would  not  hear  us. 

In  a  word,  we  did  not  wish  to  sin  because  grace  abounds  ; 
but  desired  grace  for  gracious  purposes.  Thus  our  prayers 
were  holy  in  their  object,  as  well  as  humble  in  their  spirit. 
Well ;  such  prayers  were  never  left  unanswered.  It  never 
was,  and  never  wall  be  said  in  hell,  by  any  one,  that  he 
prayed  earnestly  for  holiness,  but  was  denied  it.  And  one 
reason  why  this  blessing  is  never  denied,  is,  that  whenever 
it  is  asked  with  all  the  heart,  the  heart  is  influenced  by  the 
Spirit  of  God,  who  never  awakens  holy  desires  without  in- 
tending to  gratify  them.  Settle  it,  therefore,  in  your  minds, 
that  as  surely  as  you  have  been  led  to  plead  earnestly  for  a 
holy  salvation,  you  will  be  led  by  the  same  Spirit,  to  rejoice 
in  that  salvation  eventually.  This  result  cannot  fail,  be- 
cause "  God  cannot  lie." 

Thirdly, — Have  we  asked  in  faith,  nothing  doubting  ? 
Now  here  we  must,  at  once,  plead  guilty  of  much  unbelief. 
We  have  often  doubted,  and  always  doubted,  more  or  lessj 
in  all  our  prayers.     We  can  hardly  see,  in  our  own  case,  the 


142  THE     PROMISES     OF     GOD 

possibility  of  keeping  out  all  doubts  from  our  minds  in 
prayer.  Indeed,  the  thing  seems  impossible,  whatever  be 
the  consequence.  The  consequence  is,  however,  that  the 
doubting  man  shall  receive  nothing  of  the  Lord  ;  and,  tliere- 
fore,  undoubting  prayer  cannot  be  an  impossibility,  whatever 
it  may  seem  at  first  sight. 

This  matter  must  be  minutely  examined.  Now,  all 
doubts  do  not  spring  from  imhelief ;  and  many  of  them  are 
not  wilful.  Accordingly,  whilst  we  are  prone  to  doubt,  we 
take  no  pleasure  in  doubting.  We  should  be  very  glad  to 
be  quite  free  from  all  doubts  and  misgivings  of  heart  in 
prayer.  Whatever  sin,  therefore,  may  be  in  them,  we  fall 
into  it  not  willingly,  but  in  order  to  avoid  the  far  greater  sin 
of  prcsumptio7i.  So  little  idea  or  design  have  we  of  of- 
fending or  dishonouring  God,  by  our  doubts,  that  we  actual- 
ly give  way  to  them,  lest  we  should  offend  him  by  hoping 
too  much  or  too  confidently.  We  think  it  more  becoming 
and  necessary,  as  sinners,  to  keep  far  off  from  the  very  ap- 
pearance of  presumption  or  self-complacency.  In  a  word, 
we  doubt,  because  we  think  it  would  be  sinful  or  rash,  m 
us,  to  believe  that  we  have  obtained  the  mercy  which  we 
have  been  praying  for.  Whatever  evil,  therefore,  may  be 
in  cherishing  the  doubts  which  we  indulge,  it  has  certainly 
been  in  order  to  avoid  a  greater  evil,  that  we  have  given 
way  to  them.  This  is  the  real  fact  of  the  case  ;  and,  there- 
fore, it  does  not  fall  fully  under  the  threatening  :  "  Let  not 
that  man  think  that  he  shall  receive  any  thing  of  the  Lord." 

When,  however,  prayer  has  been  truly  humble  in  its  spirit, 
and  holy  in  its  object,  it  is  sinful  to  entertain  any  doubt  of 
its  success,  seeing  God  has  promised,  yea,  sworn,  to  an- 
swer it.  If,  indeed,  there  were  no  promises,  or  the  promises 
not  "  yea  and  amen"  in  Christ,  doubting  might  be  even  a 
duty  or  a  virtue  ;  because,  in  that  case,  faith  would  have  no 
clear  warrant.  But  as  He  who  has  said,  "  Ask,"  has  also 
said,  "  ye  shall  receive^''  it  is  as  much  our  duty  to  believe  his 
promise,  as  to  obey  his  precept. 

In  fact,  whatever  warrant  or  reason  we  have  for  praying, 


THE     ANSWERS     TO     PRAYER.  143 

we  have  them  also  for  believing  that  our  prayers  will  be 
answered.  God  never  said  to  the  seed  of  Jacob,  nor  to  any 
one  else,  '-  Seek  ye  my  face  in  vain  ;"  for  he  is  not  a  man, 
that  he  should  lie  ;  nor  the  son  of  man,  that  he  should  re- 
pent :   His  word  standeth  fast  unto  all  generations. 

"  But,"  some  will  say,  "  whatever  be  argued  or  proved, 
as  to  the  theory,  the  fact  is,  that  my  prayers  for  an  interest 
in  the  salvation  of  God  have  not  been  answered  yet.  Years 
have  elapsed  since  I  was  led  to  cry  mightily  unto  God 
for  mercy,  but  I  have  not  obtained  mercy.  I  do  not  set 
this  fact  against  the  truth  of  what  1  have  just  read; 
but  I  state  it  as  an  exception  to  the  general  rule."  Now, 
upon  the  supposition  that  you  have  poured  out  your  heart 
unto  God  for  saving  mercy,  I  here  close  with  you  at 
once,  and  ask — Upon  what  authority  do  you  affirm  that 
you  have  not  found  mercy  of  the  Lord  ?  Where  has 
God  said  that  he  has  refused  your  prayer?  Who  told  you 
that  you  were  an  exception  to  the  general  rule  ?  "  I  need 
no  one  to  tell  me,"  you  will  say  :  "  my  owwfedings  assure 
me  of  the  fact.  Should  I  not  have  peace  and  joy  in  my 
heart,  if  my  prayers  for  pardon  and  acceptance  had  been 
answered  ?  But  I  am  a  stranger  to  peace  and  joy,  and  al- 
most to  hope  too  ;  and,  surely,  that  is  authority  and  reason 
enough  for  saying  that  my  prayers  are  not  answered." 

Tliis  is,  indeed,  a  strong  case,  and  almost  startling  to 
one  who  has  afhrmed,  and  is  pledged  to  confirm  the  fact, 
that  pardon  and  acceptance  are  never  denied,  when  they 
are  earnestly  sought  for  holy  purposes.  I  repeat  the  fact, 
however,  and  proceed  to  redeem  my  pledge.  Now,  you 
say,  tliat  you  feel  that  your  prayers  are  not  yet  answered  : 
accordingly,  you  believe  also  that  they  are  not.  But  how- 
would  you  feel  if  you  believed  that  your  prayers  for  mercy 
had  been  prese?ited  by  the  Saviour,  and  accepted  by  God  ? 
Do  you  not  see,  at  a  glance,  that  if  you  believed  this  to  be 
true,  you  would  feel  both  peace  and  joy  ?  Well ;  do  you 
not  see,  with  equal  clearness,  that  whilst  you  do  not  believe 
this,  you  cannot  experience  peace  or  joy  ?    It  is  impossible 


144  THE   PROMISES    OF    GOD 

to  feel  the  peace  of  believing,  whilst  you  dishelieve.  It  is 
unreasonable  to  expect  to  feel  the  answer  of  prayer,  whilst 
you  think  that  it  is  unanswered.  You  cannot  feel  differ- 
ently from  what  you  think.  Accordingly,  whenever  any 
one  has  felt  his  prayers  answered,  it  must  have  been  by 
belie  vino-  that  Christ  had  presented  them,  and  that  God  had 
thus  accepted  them,  for  the  sake  of  Christ. 

"  But,"  you  say,  "  I  do  not  know  that  my  prayers  have 
been  thus  heard  at  the  throne  of  grace.  If  I  could  think 
that  the  Saviour  had  interceded  for  me,  I  could  then  easily 
believe  that  Iwas  accepted  in  the  Beloved."  Well!  Do 
you  know  any  thing  to  the  contranj  ?  Can  you  prove  that 
He,  who  never  shut  his  ear  to  cry  of  a  perishing  sinner,  has 
overlooked  you  ?  Would  that  be  like  the  Saviour's  well- 
known  and  long-tried  character,  as  a  Mediator  between  God 
and  man  ?  Is  it  not  far  more  in  harmony  with  all  you  have 
read  of  Him,  to  beheve  that,  when  he  saw  you  at  the  foot 
of  the  cross  crying  for  mercy,  he  took  up  your  cause  ?  You 
know  that  he  has  taken  up  many  such,  since  he  took  his 
place,  as  an  Intercessor,  before  the  throne  ;  and  he  is  not 
changed  since  you  began  to  plead  at  the  footstool. 

"  True,"  you  say  ;  "  but  how  can  I  know  that  he  has  in- 
terceded for  me  ?  You  say,  believe  that  your  prayers  are 
accepted  through  Him  ;  but  where  is  my  autJiority  or  imr- 
rant  for  believing  this  ?  Would  you  have  me  to  believe  it 
to  be  true,  merely  because  I  insh  it  to  be  true  ?  I  may  say 
here,  (but  in  another  spirit,)  '  What  sign  showest  thou,  that 
we  may  believe  ?^  " 

Now  you  are  right  in  thus  requiring  a  higher  authority 
than  my  word,  or  your  own  wishes,  before  venturing  to  be- 
lieve that  you  have  obtained  the  mercy  of  God  unto  eternal 
life.  Nothing  short  of  a  divine  warrant  ought  to  satisfy  you ; 
for  nothing  less  can  sanction  a  divine  hope.  But  allow  me 
to  ask  here,  what  do  you  mean  by  a  divine  warrant  for  be- 
lieving that  the  mercy  you  implored  is  granted?  What 
would  you  consider  sufficient  authority  for  the  belief  of  this  ? 
Would  the  written  word  of  God,  in  the  Scriptures,  satisfy 


THE     ANSWERS     TO     PRAYER.  145 

you  ?  If  so,  I  redeem  my  pledge  at  once  :  "  i/e  that  asketh, 
receiveth;  and  he  that  seeketh,  findeth  /"  Are  you  disap- 
pointed ?  Are  you  ready  to  say—"  /  have  asked,  hut  not 
received ;  sought,  hut  not  found:'  I  am  not  sure  of  that. 
But,  were  it  true  that  you  had  not  yet  found  the  mercy  you 
had  sought,  it  is  equally  true  that  you  are  warranted,  by  the 
express  word  of  God,  to  believe  that  you  shall  find  it  event- 
ually. "  Seek  and  ye  shall  find,''  is  the  assurance  given  in 
Scripture  to  all  the  prayerful.  And  how  gloriously  Paul 
amplifies  and  applies  it :  "  For  whosoever  shall  call  on  the 
name  of  the  Lord  shall  he  saved.""  Here,  then,  is  a  divine 
warrant  for  believing  that  your  prayers  for  salvation  will  he 
answered  ;  a  fact  which  may  well  fill  your  heart  with  a  hope 
full  of  immortality,  and  both  increase  and  confirm  your  de- 
votional habits. 

But  even  this,  pleasing  as  it  is,  is  not  all  the  truth.  If 
you  have  prayed  like  the  publican,  you  are  "justified"  like 
the  publican.  This  is  the  scriptural  fact ;  and  it  is  by  be- 
lieving it,  that  peace  comes  into  the  mind.  In  this  way 
oidy  could  the  publican  have  known  his  own  justification. 
No  voice  from  the  mercy-seat  within  the  veil  answered  his 
prayer  for  mercy ;  no  messenger  from  heaven  assured  him, 
of  pardon  :  if,  therefore,  he  went  down  to  his  house  with  a 
sense  of  pardon  and  acceptance,  it  must  have  been  derived 
from  believing  the  often-revealed  fact,  that  God  delighteth 
in  mercy,  and  is  the  rewarder  of  them  that  diligently  seek 
him. 

This  subject  cannot,  however,  be  well  pursued,  until  the 
afhnity  of  fen^ent  prayer  and  saving  faith  be  clearly  under- 
stood. 

13 


Nl' 


146  THE     AFFINITY     OF     FERVENT 

No.   III. 

THE     AFFINITY     OF     FERVENT    PRAYER     AND 
SAVING     FAITH. 

Whatever  we  may  think  of  prayer,  and  however  doubt- 
ful w^e  may  feel  as  to  its  answer,  we  are  quite  sure  that  faith, 
when  genuine,  cannot  fail  to  save  the  soul.  "  He  that  he- 
lieveth  shall  never  perish"  He  that  belicveth  hath  eternal 
life."  Thus  real  faith  places  the  safety  of  the  soul  beyond 
all  risk  and  doubt.  Accordingly,  were  we  as  sure  that  we 
had  believed  with  the  heart  as  that  we  have  prayed  with  the 
heart — as  sure  that  we  are  true  believers  as  that  we  are 
praying  persons,  we  should  then  feel  that  we  were  both 
warranted  and  welcome  to  consider  ourselves  the  children  of 
God,  and  to  appropriate  to  ourselves  all  the  great  and  pre- 
cious promises.  But  we  are  not  so  sure  that  we  have  truly 
believed  as  that  we  have  truly  prayed.  We  have  no  doubt  of 
the  sincerity  of  our  prayers  for  mercy  and  grace  ;  but  we  have 
many  doubts  as  to  the  genuineness  of  our  faith.  We  know 
when  we  began  to  pray  in  good  earnest ;  but  we  cannot  tell 
when  we  began  to  believe  in  Christ  with  th€  heart,  nor  are 
we  sure  that  our  believing  is  faith.  The  consequence  is,  that 
whilst  thus  doubtful  of  the  reality  of  our  faith,  we  doubt 
whether  our  prayers  are,  or  ever  will  be,  answered. 

1  thus  identify  myself  with  you  in  your  difficulties  upon 
this  subject,  that  I  may  gain  your  confidence,  and  prove  to 
you  that  I  have  felt  them — felt  them  also  long  and  deeply — 
that  I  have  as  little  inclination  to  speculate  or  theorize  about 
faith,  as  to  blaspheme.  I  have  no  new  system  to  establish, 
nor  any  old  ones  to  explode.  What  I  have  studied  and 
prayed  to  ascertain  for  myself  is — the  exact  thi7ig — the 
precise  state  of  mind,  which  both  God  and  the  Lamb  call 
for,  under  the  name  of  faith  or  believing  ;  and  with  which 
ihey  have  graciously  connected  the  promise  of  salvation. 
Now,  in  examining  the  word  of  God  on  this  subject,  I  find, 

First.  That  the. Scriptures  do  not  distinguish  between  fer- 


PRAYER     AND      SAVING     FAITH.  147 

vent  prayer  and  saving  faith;  but  treat  them  as  the  same 
thing.  Both  the  old  and  the  New  Testament  distinguish, 
and  that  by  the  broadest  lines  of  demarcation,  between  faith 
and  works — between  believing  and  doing ;  but  never  between 
believing  and  praying.  Accordingly,  there  are  no  instan- 
ces, in  Scripture,  of  any  prayerful  person  being  represented 
or  treated  as  an  unbeliever,  or  without  faith.  The  prayer  of 
the  hypocrite  and  the  wicked  is,  of  course,  declared  to  be 
an  "  abomination  to  the  Lord,"  whilst  they  continue  such  : 
but  when  the  wicked  man  forsakes  his  way  and  the  un- 
righteous man  his  thoughts,  and  turns  unto  the  Lord  with 
supplication,  he  is  recognised  and  treated  as  a  believer  : 
"  God  will  have  mercy  upon  him,  and  our  God  abundantly 
pardon ;"  the  very  promise  made  to  faith.  Yea,  whenever 
prayer  is  humble  in  its  spirit,  and  holy  in  its  object,  it  is 
regarded  by  God  as  faith,  even  if  the  suppliant  be  "  trem- 
bling" at  the  w^ord  of  God.  Lsa.  Ixvi.  1,2.  "A  broken 
heart,"  on  account  of  sin,  is  never  represented  in  Scripture 
as  f'  an  evil  heart  of  unbelief;"  nor  a  "  contrite  spirit,"  even 
if  only  mourning,  as  without  faith :  but  the  promise  to 
mourners  in  Zion  is  the  very  same  that  Christ  made  to  his 
real  disciples — "  They  shall  be  comforted."  Even  those 
vAio  are  only  hungering  and  thirsting  after  righteousness 
(and  thus,  in  their  own  apprehension,  "far  from  righteous- 
ness," and,  as  some  would  say,  "  yet  in  unbelief,")  are  not 
classed  with  unbelievers,  but  "blessed"  by  him  who  search- 
eth  the  heart,  and  assured  by  him  that "  they  shall  be  filled." 

"  This  is  not  the  manner  of  man,  0  Lord  God  /"  Not  the 
manner  of  those  who  make  faith  to  consist  in  the  belief  of 
their  own  election :  not  the  manner  of  those  who  make  as- 
surance the  essence  of  faith :  nor  the  manner  of  those  who 
treat  the  timid  and  trembling  as  unbelievers.  It  is,  however, 
the  manner  of  him  who  is  both  the  object  and  the  judge  of 
faith.  He  recognises  and  welcomes  the  first  outgoings  and 
yearnings  of  the  heart  towards  him,  as  manifestations  of  a 
believing  disposition,  and  as  the  first-fruits  of  the  Spirit. 

There  is  not,  then,   a  moral  distinction  between  prayer 


148  THE    AFFINITY     OF    FERVENT 

and  faith  :  they  are  not  different  things  in  their  nature. 
Why  then  should  you  distinguish  them,  seeing  the  Scrip- 
tures do  not  ?  If  you  have  prayed  with  the  heart,  you  have 
believed  with  the  heart. 

Secondly.  In  farther  examining  the  Scriptures  on  this 
subject,  I  find  that  they  virtually  identify  fervent  prayer  with 
saving  faith.  Not  only  do  they  not  distinguish  between 
prayer  and  faith,  but  they  represent  them  as  the  same  thing 
in  effect,  and  ascribe  to  them  the  same  efficacy.  Remem- 
ber the  case  of  the  Syrophenician  mother:  when  applying 
to  Christ,  on  behalf  of  her  daughter,  she  said  nothing  about 
the  nature  of  her  faith,  nor  of  its  genuineness,  but  kept  on 
pleading  for  mercy.  Her  pleading  was  her  faith.  Accord- 
ingly, the  Saviour  called  it  so  :  "  O  woman,  great  is  thy  faith  : 
be  it  unto  thee  even  as  thou  wilt"  It  is  true  that,  although  she 
said  nothing  about  her  faith,  she  showed  much  faith,  by  perse- 
vering in  prayer,  notwithstanding  many  and  great  discour- 
agements. And  have  not  you  done  the  same  1  If  you  had 
no  real  faith  in  Christ — no  confidence  in  his  blood — no  high 
opinion  of  his  gracious  heart,  would  you,  could  you,  have  con- 
tinued praying  in  his  name  T  You  may  not  have  been  accus- 
tomed to  hear,  and,  therefore,  not  to  think,  that  prayer  is  the 
best  expression  of  faith  in  the  Saviour  ;  just  as  holiness  is 
the  best  proof  of  faith  in  him.  The  fact,  however,  is  self- 
evident  the  moment  it  is  suggested.  You  now  see,  at  a 
glance,  that  you  would  not  pray  at  all  in  the  name  of  Christ, 
if  you  had  no  faith  at  all  in  his  name  ;  that  you  would  not 
plead  his  merits,  nor  appeal  to  his  blood,  if  you  had  no  faith 
in  their  efficacy  ;  that  you  would  not  seek  an  interest  in  his 
salvation,  if  you  did  not  believe  him  to  be  an  all-sufficient 
vSaviour.  You  do  not  pray  to  angels  nor  to  the  saints  in 
heaven,  as  the  Papist  do.  Why  ?  Because  you  have  no 
faith  in  them.  And  do  you  not  see,  that  if  you  had  no 
faith  in  Christ,  you  would  not  pray  to  him  either,  nor  in 
his  name  ?     The  thing  is  self-evident. 

Consider,  now,  the  case  of  the  publican.  There  is  no- 
tliing  said  of  his  faith,  and  he  himself  said  nothing  about  it. 


PRAYER    AND     SAVING     FAITH.  }49 

We  see  nothing  in  his  case  but  humble  prayer.  But  we 
are  told  that  he  was  "justified:"  and,  as  justification  is  only 
by  faith  alone,  it  is  evident  that  Christ  regarded  the  publi- 
can's prayers  as  faith.  And  it  is  obvious  that  he  never 
would  have  prayed  as  he  did  for  mercy,  if  he  had  not  be- 
lieved in  the  mercifulness  of  the  God  of  Israel. 

Remember  also  the  case  of  the  thief  on  the  cross.  His 
application  to  the  Saviour  was  by  prayer  :  "  Lord,  remember 
me  when  thou  comest  into  thy  kingdom."  Here,  indeed, 
there  was  much  faith  expressed  and  implied ;  but  still  it 
was  in  the  form  of  prayer,  and  not  more  than  our  prayers 
express  and  imply,  when  we  make  the  blood  of  Christ  all 
our  plea  for  mercy  and  grace.  And,  as  the  praying  male- 
factor was  treated  as  a  believing  sinner,  we  are  thus  en- 
couraged to  pray,  and  warranted  to  regard  humble  prayer 
as  cordial  faith. 

Remember  afeo  the  case  of  Paul  at  Damascus.  It  was 
not  said.  Behold,  he  believeth  ;  but,  "  Behold,  he  prayeth  ;'' 
— evidently  because  praying  is  virtually  the  same  as  be- 
lieving, or  the  best  way  of  expressing  faith.  Accordingly, 
when  he  became  an  Apostle,  and  stood  forth  as  the  chief 
champion  of  the  doctrine  of  justification  by  faith  alone,  he 
did  not  distinguish  between  prayer  and  faith  ;  but  designa- 
ted as  believers,  "  all  that  in  every  place  call  upon  the  name 
of  Jesus  Christ ;"  and  declared  that  "  whosoever  shall  call 
upon  the  name  of  the  Lord,  shall  be  saved." 

Thus  it  is  that  the  Scriptures  teach  almost  the  identity 
of  faith  and  prayer ;  and  uniformly  represent  believers  as 
prayerful,  and  the  prayerful  as  believers.  This  Scriptural 
fact  is  of  incalculable  value,  both  to  those  who  have  been 
perplexed  by  the  public  controversies  about  faith,  and  to 
those  who  have  been  perplexed  by  their  own  fears  and 
jealousies.  Both  classes  are  more  numerous  than  many 
suppose.  But  what  a  pity,  and  how  unnecessary,  that  the 
prayerful  amongst  them  should  waste  their  time  or  their 
spirits  in  doubting  and  discussing  the  genuineness  of  their 
faith !     How  much  better  that  time  would  be  employed,  if 

13* 


150  THE    AFFINITY    OF    FERVENT 

devoted  to  secret  prayer.  That  would  bring  and  keep  be- 
fore the  mind,  in  light  and  loveliness,  the  grand  object  of 
faith — Christ  crucified  ;  and  when  he  is  before  the  mind, 
in  the  brightness  of  his  glory,  and  the  freeness  of  his  grace ; 
in  the  love  of  his  heart,  and  the  omnipotence  of  his  hand ; 
in  the  all-sufficiency  of  his  sacrifice,  and  the  authority  of 
his  example,  unbelief  is  overpowered,  and  fear  dispersed, 
like  clouds  before  the  sun. 

What,  now,  do  you  think  of  your  own  case  ?  Your  chief 
difficulty  has  been,  hitherto,  to  arrive  at  a  satisfactory  con- 
clusion as  to  the  reality  of  your  faith  in  Christ.  Sometimes 
you  have  suspected  that  it  was  a  mere  historical  faith.  But 
does  historical  faith  pray  fervently  ?  At  other  times,  you 
have  thought  it  no  better  than  the  faith  of  devils.  But 
devils  do  not  pray,  whatever  they  may  believe.  You  have 
also  thought  it  dead  faith.  But  does  dead  faith  pray  earn- 
estly 1  You  have  often  thought  it  the  mere  faith  of  educa- 
tion or  custom — that  vague  and  vapid  kind  of  believing, 
which  any  one  can  practise,  and  which  everyone  professes. 
But  does  this  current  faith  lead  into  the  closet,  with  strong 
cries  and  tears  for  mercy  ?  1  would  not,  for  worlds,  flatter 
you :  but  I  must  say,  that  if  you  are  in  the  habit  of  praying 
with  the  heart  in  secret,  and  in  the  name  of  Christ,  and  for 
a  holy  salvation,  your  faith  is  "  the  faith  of  God's  elect." 

"  But,"  some  one  may  say,  "  I  find  it  quite  as  difficult  to 
know  if  I  pray  aright,  as  if  I  believe  aright.  I  am  as  much 
ashamed  of  my  prayers  as  of  my  faith.  Sometimes,  I  can- 
not pray  at  all ;  at  other  times,  my  prayers  are  hurried  >and 
heartless ;  and,  at  all  times,  they  are  so  imperfect  that  1 
can  hardly  see  how  God  can  answer  them."  This  is  a 
very  common  complaint,  and  a  familiar  acknowledgment 
What,  however,  do  you  really  mean  to  confess  by  this  form 
of  words  ?  Do  you  mean  to  say  that  you  only  pretend, 
when  you  pray  for  mercy  ? — That  you  are  insincere,  when 
you  ask  for  salvation  ? — That  you  feel  no  need  of  them, 
nor  care  whether  you  obtain  them  or  not  ?  Do  you  mean 
that  in  using  the  name  of  Christ,  and  referring  to  his  blood, 


PRAYER     AND     SAVING     FAITH.  151 

you  think  nothing  about  them,  or  see  no  value  in  them  ? 
If,  indeed,  such  be  the  character  of  your  prayers,  you  may 
well  say  that  y9u  cannot  see  how  God  can  answer  them. 
He  never  did,  and  never  will,  answer  hypocritical  prayers. 
But  this  is  not  what  you  mean.  Well ;  do  you  mean  to 
say  that  you  were  never  in  earnest  about  the  salvation  of 
your  soul  ? — never  felt  what  you  said,  when  confessing  your 
sins,  and  seeking  an  interest  in  the  Saviour  ? — never  wept, 
nor  wished  to  weep  tears  of  penitence  before  God  ?  In  a 
word,  do  you  mean  to  say  that  you  never  felt  any  thing  of 
the  spirit  of  the  publican,  when  he  smote  upon  his  breast, 
and  cried,  "  God  be  merciful  to  me  a  sinner  ?"  If  so,  why 
do  you  call  your  heartless  words,  prayers  ?  But  this  is  not 
what  you  mean.  You  are  shocked  at  such  an  idea,  and 
wonder  how  I  could  suspect  you  of  such  impiety.  The  fact 
is,  I  have  no  suspicion  of  the  kind  ;  but  have  had  recourse 
to  these  questions,  just  that  you  may  discover  your  own 
sincerity,  amidst  all  the  imperfections  of  your  prayers. 
What  you  mean  chiefly  is,  that  though,  at  times,  you  have 
felt  an  humble  and  broken  spirit,  and  could  weep  before 
God,  and  pour  out  all  your  heart ;  yet,  more  frequently  you 
have  been  cold  and  formal.  You  mean,  too,  that  you  are 
sadly  harassed  by  vain  and  wandering  thoughts,  even  when 
you  are  upon  your  knees  before  God ;  and  that  often,  when 
you  even  wish  to  enjoy  communion  with  him,  your  heart 
will  neither  fix  nor  feel  as  you  desire.  But  all  this  is  your 
grief  and  shame.  You  are  not  reconciled  to  such  praying. 
You  do  not  like — you  dislike,  the  bare  idea  of  going  on  in 
this  way.  Nothing  would  please  you  more  than  getting 
over  these  hinderances.  You  are  never  so  happy  as  when 
you  unburden  and  unbosom  all  your  soul  before  God,  and 
throw  all  your  heart  into  every  word  you  utter.  You  can 
never  forget  the  hallowed  moments  of  retirement,  when 
you  first  caught  the  spirit  of  prayer,  and  felt  what  it  is  to 
commune  with  God  at  the  mercy-seat.  You  understand,  at 
once,  what  Melancthon  meant,  when  he  said  of  Luther, 
"  I  have  overheard  him  in  secret  prayer  ;  and  he  spoke  as 


152  THE    AFFINITY     OF     FERVENT 

if  God  had  been  in  the  closet  with  him."  You  can  well 
believe  this  of  Luther ;  for  you  have,  at  times,  felt  as  if 
God  was  in  your  closet.  Accordingly,  what  you  want  is, 
to  get  back  to  this  devotional  spirit,  and  to  continue  in  it. 
No  wonder !  There  is,  however,  quite  as  much  that  is 
pleasing  to  God,  in  the  broken  sighs  and  unutterable  groan- 
ings  of  a  contrite  spirit,  as  in  the  ardours  of  sensible  com- 
munion. A  heart  shrinking  from  and  resisting  vain  thoughts, 
and  struggling  to  throw  off  the  world  and  the  flesh,  is,  per- 
haps, as  fully  approved  by  him  who  searcheth  the  heart,  as 
when, 

"  On  eagle-pinions  borne 

It  climbs  the  mount  of  God." 

What  do  you  think,  now,  of  the  sentiment,  that  whoso- 
ever hath  really  prayed  with  the  heart  for  a  holy  salvation 
hath  actually  believed  with  the  heart  ?  You  are,  perhaps, 
equally  afraid  to  admit  or  deny  it.  It  is,  perhaps,  somewhat 
new  to  you :  and,  if  it  be  altogether  new  to  you,  you  ought 
to  suspend  your  judgment  upon  it,  until  you  have  examined 
it  more  fully.  You  cannot  be  too  jealous  of  novelties  in  reli- 
gion. It  does  not,  however,  follow,  because  a  truth  is  new 
to  you,  that  it  is  new  in  itself.  The  spirituality  of  the  di- 
vine law  is  as  old  as  the  law  itself ;  but  it  was  treated  as  a 
novelty  by  the  Jews,  when  Christ  explained  and  enforced 
it  upon  the  mount ;  because  they  had  made  void  the  law  by 
the  traditions  of  men.  In  this  case  it  was  the  gloss  of  the 
elders  that  was  the  real  novelty,  and  the  doctrine  of  Christ 
was  the  old  truth.  In  like  manner.  Popery,  although  an- 
cient, in  reference  to  time,  is,  in  reference  to  Scripture,  a 
real  novelty ;  and  the  Protestant  creed,  the  old  faith  of  the 
Christian  Church.  It  is  not,  therefore,  the  length  of  the 
time  during  which  mystical  views  of  faith  have  been  cur- 
rent, that  stamps  them  correct.  Their  long  currency  is  it- 
self a  reason  for  suspecting  their  correctness,  especially 
when  the  effect  of  them  upon  the  truly  serious  and  prayer- 
ful is  discouraging.     For  that  cannot  be  a  right  view  of 


PRAYER     AND     SAVING     FAITH.  153 

faith,  howeA'er  old  it  may  be,  which  makes  salvation  appear 
as  difficult  by  the  gospel  as  it  is  by  the  law,  or  as  far  off  by 
faith  as  it  is  by  works.  There  must  be  something  awfully 
defective  in  every  definition  of  faith  Avhich  discourages  or 
perplexes  a  soul  intent  upon  obtaining  an  interest  in  Christ, 
and  conformity  to  his  image.  The  whole  gospel  is  intend- 
ed and  calculated  to  meet  the  wishes  of  every  such  soul ; 
and,  therefore,  if  our  views  of  faith  only  tantalize  these 
wishes,  or  make  that  gospel  to  appear  other  than  "  good 
news"  to  us,  those  views  must  be  erroneous  in  something ; 
and  to  contend  for  them  is  to  contend  against  the  gospel 
itself. 

This,  I  am  fully  aware,  is  not  intended  by  those  who 
teach,  nor  by  those  who  hold,  mystical  views  of  faith.  No- 
thing, I  am  persuaded,  is  further  from  their  hearts,  than  to 
defeat  or  encumber  the  gospel.  Their  real  design  is  to 
exalt  and  maintain  that  gospel,  above  the  unholy  level  of  slight 
and  superficial  views  ;  and  to  secure  a  faith  "  full  of  good 
fruits."  But  still,  if  this  system  really  prevent  faith,  and 
make  the  gospel  appear  as  unmanageable  as  the  law,  no 
excellence  of  motive  must  be  allowed  to  shield  it  from  sol- 
emn reprehension.  The  express  language  of  the  Scrip- 
tures is,  that  faith  is  the  hearty  belief  of  the  truth  concern- 
ing the  person  and  work  of  Christ ;  and  that  the  best  ex- 
pression of  believing  with  the  heart,  is,  praying  with  the 
heart.  This  definition  of  faith  is  so  simple  that  any  one 
can  understand  it  at  once ;  and  if  it  appear  at  all  new  to 
you,  the  novelty  is  not  in  itself,  but  in  your  notice  of  the 
fact ;  for  the  fact  itself  is  as  old  as  the  Bible.  In  like  man- 
ner, if,  in  reference  to  some  old  theological  definitions  of 
faith,  it  seems  new,  it  merely  sounds  new  ;  for  in  Scripture 
the  prayerful  are  always  treated  as  true  believers. 

But  it  M'ill  be  said,  "  that  the  old  definitions  of  faith  are 
chiefly  derived  from  the  old  divines  ;  and  that  such  remarks 
implicate  them.  Did  not  Owen  and  Baxter,  Hervey  and 
Henry,  Watts  and  Doddridge,  Boston  and  the  old  Erskines, 
understand  faith  ?" 


154  THE    AFFINITY    OF    FERVENT 

Understand  faith!  Yes,  and  possessed  too,  infinitely 
more  of  it  than  any  writer  who  has  arraigned  them.  They 
were  "  full  of  faith ;"  and  it  was  their  fulness  which  gave 
rise  to  that  cast  of  mystery  and  indefiniteness  which  char- 
acterizes some  of  their  explanations  of  faith.  They  were, 
in  fact,  so  full  of  the  thing,  that  they  could  not  find  a  simple 
name  for  it.  Words  were  the  least  part  of  their  explana- 
tions of  faith :  their  spirit  was  the  living  illustration  of  its 
meaning.  There  was  no  mist  around  the  subject,  Avhilst 
these  thoughtful  and  devotional  men  men  were  pouring  all 
their  soul  into  their  sermons.  Their  hearers  could  then 
see  that,  however  faith  was  defined,  the  real  essence  of  it 
was  a  right  state  of  mind  towards  the  Saviour  ;  and  that 
prayer  was  the  best  expression  of  it.  It  is,  therefore,  only 
when  men  of  "  little  faitK'  employ  the  complex  names,  by 
which  the  old  Divines  designated  and  described  faith,  that 
confusion  is  created.  It  is  their  words,  when  in  the  lips 
of  men  without  their  spirit,  which  "  darken  knowledge," 
and  occasion  perplexity.  Accordingly,  all  the  truly  devo- 
tional men,  who  have  clear  views  of  faith,  find  no  difficulty 
(but  unspeakable  delight)  in  the  deep  thoughts  and  holy 
unction  of  the  old  divines.  Their  adoring  and  realizing 
views  of  the  Lamb  slain,  arrange  themselves  gloriously 
around  definite  expressions. 

All  their  vague  modes  of  expression  on  the  subject  of 
faith  are  forgotten,  in  the  presence  of  their  vast  and  radi- 
ant ideas  of  the  great  salvation.  "  The  savour  of  the 
knowledge  of  Christ,"  is  always  full  and  fresh  in  their 
pages.  In  a  word,  they  perplex  none  but  those  who  have 
never  studied  the  subject,  and  offend  none  but  the  fastidious 
and  those  who  prefer  names  to  things. 

And  yet,  these  gteat  and  good  men  have  been  treated  in 
this  age  with  imsparing  contempt.  The  Sandemanian 
school  has  recklessly  consigned  them,  and  their  theology, 
too,  to  the  very  doom  which  the  Saviour  denounced  on  the 
Pharisees  and  the  traditions  of  the  Elders.  Blind  unbe- 
lievers, leading  the  blind,  is  the  softest  description  givea 


PRAYER    AND    SAVING     FAITH.  156 

of  them.  This  outrage  on  truth  and  decency  has  hardly  a 
parallel  in  the  annals  of  polemics.  It  seems,  indeed,  im- 
possible that  any  man,  possessed  of  common  sense  or  com- 
mon honesty,  could,  for  a  moment,  confound  Owen  and 
Baxter,  Hervey,  and  the  old  Erskines,  with  unbelievers  I 
It  is  like  calling  the  stars  dark,  or  the  sun  cold.  Accord- 
ingly, all  sober  minds  have  no  more  tendency  to  suspect 
the  faith  of  these  worthies,  than  that  of  the  Apostles,  or 
that  of  "  Abraham,  the  father  of  the  faithful."  And  had 
their  libellers,  instead  of  calling  them  unbelievers,  attempted 
to  prove  against  them  "  an  evil  heart  of  unbelief,"  or  to 
demonstrate  that  their  sentiments  amount  to  unbelief,  even 
they  must  have  seen  and  felt  that  failure  was  inevitable, 
and  the  enterprise  as  absurd  as  an  attempt  to  prove  that 
light  was  darkness. 

It  must  be  allowed,  and  may  be  regretted,  that  the  old 
Divines  do  not  always  express  themselves  clearly  upon  the 
subject  of  faith. 

As  the  name  of  what  God  and  the  Lamb  call  for,  faith  is 
often  equivocal  in  their  pages  ;  but  the  thiyig — the  state  of 
mind  required  by  the  gospel,  beams,  yea,  blazes,  throughout 
their  writings.  Christ  is  "  all  in  all"  in  their  own  religion, 
and  their  sole  aim  is  to  make  him  so  in  the  religion  of 
others.  Accordingly,  no  man,  seriously  inquiring  the  way 
of  salvation,  ever,  rose  from  their  works,  under  an  impres- 
sion that  they  were  leading  him  away  from  the  cross  of 
Christ,  to  his  own  righteousness.  Many  have  felt  that  some 
of  the  old  writers  lead  inquirers  in  rather  a  round-about 
way  to  the  cross :  but  they  have  felt  at  the  same  time, 
oven  when  that  route  was  most  circuitous,  that  it  was  only 
to  make  their  arrival  more  certain.  The  slowness  is  al- 
ways for  the  sake  of  sureness,  and  never  for  self-righteous 
purposes. 

No  one  owes  these  acknowledgments  to  the  old  Divines 
more  than  I  do,  and  no  one  makes  them  with  greater  sin- 
cerity. I  prefer  infinitely,  their  state  of  mind  towards  the 
Saviour,  to  all  the  theories  of  faith  extant.     It  was  a  living 


156  THE     AFFINITY    OF    FERVENT 

lecture  on  the  whole  subject ;  and  the  chief  reason  of  its 
being  misunderstood  by  some,  and  misrepresented  by  oth- 
ers, is,  that  they  have  not  spirituality  enough  to  enter  into 
the  spirit  of  these  "  men  of  God."  Their  words,  in  unbap- 
tized,  and  even  in  half-baptized,  lips,  must  always  lose 
more  than  half  their  meaning,  and  convey  to  others  still  less 
of  it.  They,  in  fact,  defined  faith,  as  a  fond  mother  would 
define  her  love  to  her  first-born  ;  not  logically,  nor  literally, 
but  with  an  abundance  of  words  corresponding  to  the 
abundance  of  their  feelings.  "  Out  of  the  abundance  of  the 
heart,  the  mouth  speaketh,'' — is  the  real  explanation  of  their 
system. 

But  whilst  I  thus  heartily,  though  imperfectly,  attempt 
to  do  justice  to  the  memory  and  writings  of  the  old  Divines, 
I  do  not  forget  that  their  works  are  not  the  word  of  God. 
They  themselves  never  intended  that  their  definitions  of 
faith  should,  in  anywise,  defeat  or  encumber  the  gospel. 
The  most  voluminous  amongst  the  puritans  would  have 
burned  or  rewritten  their  folios,  if  they  had  suspected  them 
of  any  such  tendency.  They  had,  however,  no  such  ten- 
dency at  the  time ;  they  were  written  agreeably  to  the 
modes  of  speaking  in  use  then.  And,  as  our  modes  of 
expression  are  fewer  and  more  definite,  what  is  wanted  is, 
not  an  exposure  of  their  defects,  but  a  full  return  to  the 
language  of  Scripture.  The  word  of  God  is  able  to  make 
us  wise  unto  salvation,  if  all  the  other  books  in  the  world 
were  annihilated  ;  and  it  ought  to  be  consulted  and  submitted 
to,  without  any  reference  to  them  as  authorities.  If,  there- 
fore, you  have  derived  from  any  human  writings,  or  from 
any  human  source,  such  an  idea  of  faith  as  makes 
believing  aright  appear  to  you  as  difficult  as  obeying  per- 
fectly, you  cannot  abandon  it  too  soon,  whoever  be  the  au- 
thor of  it.  Whoever  he  was,  he  did  not  intend  that  his 
definition  of  faith  should  make  faith  seem  an  impossibility 
in  your  case.  He  drew  it  out,  in  the  first  instance,  for  him' 
self ;  and,  therefore,  you  may  be  sure  that  it  did  not  appear 
to  him  what  it  seems  to  you.     He   saw  it  in  a  light  that 


PRAYER    AND    SAVING     FAITH.  157 

left  his  own  way  and  welcome  to  the  cross  quite  open,  and 
under  this  impression,  he  gave  it  to  the  public,  in  hope  that 
the  detinition  would  open  their  way.  But  if  it  shut  you 
out,  then  all  that  you  know  of  its  author,  (and  the  more 
that  is  good  the  better  for  my  argument,)  warrants  and 
binds  you  to  give  up  his  definitions,  and  to  throw  yourself 
at  once  upon  the  words  which  the  Holy  Ghost  teacheth. 

But  this  digression  is  already  too  long.  Let  us  return  to 
the  direct  subject  of  the  essay — the  oneness  of  faith  and 
prayer.  Now  you  feel  the  necessity  of  faith.  You  are 
anxious  to  possess  il.  You  have  often  tried  to  exercise 
faith  in  the  Saviour.  You  have  occasionally  felt  as  if  the 
emotions  and  desires  of  your  heart  towards  him  were  ripen- 
ing into  real  faith.  But  still  you  are  not  satisfied.  You 
are  far  from  sure  whether  you  have,  indeed,  believed  with 
the  heart.  If,  however,  you  are  sure  that  you  have  prayed 
with  the  heart,  there  is  no  occasion  for  all  this  uncertainty 
on  the  question  of  faith.  For  it  is  self-evident,  that,  if  you 
had  no  faith  in  Christ,  you  would  not  offer  up  all  your  pray- 
ers in  the  name  of  Christ,  nor  make  his  merit  your  only 
plea  at  the  mercy-seat. 

It  is,  indeed,  true  that  thousands  unite,  every  Sabbath, 
in  prayers  which  make  the  merits  of  Christ  the  sole  plea ; 
and  yet  evince  no  faith.  But  theirs  is  not  a  parallel  case 
to  yours,  Mercy  is  thf  inmost  desire  of  your  heart,  and 
the  blood  of  Christ  your  only  ground  of  hope.  You 
can  no  longer  be  satisfied  with  repeating  words,  however 
good.  You  must  now  express  desires;  and,  sometimes, 
they  are  so  many  and  strong,  that  you  cannot  find  words  to 
express  them.  And  such  is  your  state  of  mind,  in  reference 
to  your  own  salvation,  that  neither  the  number  nor  the  na- 
ture of  your  prayers  satisfy  you.  It  is  just  what  you  see 
in  Christ,  and  not  what  you  see  in  them  that  keeps  you 
praying.  You  feel  that,  but  for  what  he  is  and  has  done, 
you  must  soon  despair  and  perish.  It  is  not  your  prayers, 
but  his  merits,  which  give  you  any  hope. 

Now  such  being  the  facts  of  your  case,  it  is  really  un- 
VOL.  I. — 14 


158  THE    AFFINITY     OF     FERVENT 

wise,  if  not  criminal,  to  question  the  reality  of  your  faith. 
Its  weakness  is  very  obvious  ;  but  its  sincerity  is  self-evi- 
dent. No  unbeliever  could  pray  in  this  spirit.  There  is 
no  instance  in  Scripture  of  any  unbeliever  crying  mightily 
unto  God  for  mercy,  through  the  blood  of  the  Lamb.  It  is, 
indeed,  difficult  to  say  how  far  wicked  men  may  go  at  times, 
in  praying  for  mercy  in  the  name  of  Christ.  You  have  no 
doubt,  known  men  who  could  pray  with  wonderful  fervour, 
and  with  every  appearance  of  sincerity,  and  who  have  been 
found  out  afterward  to  have  been  living  in  gross  sin  at  the 
very  time.  Neither  public,  nor  social  prayer,  however 
remarkable,  is,  therefore,  any  sure  test  of  faith  or  sincerity. 
Secret  prayer  is  the  test.  The  men  who  can  pray  and 
drink — pray  and  lie — pray  and  defraud — pray  and  be  prof- 
ligate, do  not,  dare  not,  pray  in  their  closets.  Secret  sin 
cannot  be  combined  with  secret  prayer.  The  yet  unmask- 
ed sensualist  may  at  times,  be  forced  by  fear,  to  fall  down 
alone  before  God,  and  break  the  silence  of  the  night  by  the 
groans  of  remorse  :  but  if  he  continue  to  sin  he  will  soon 
discontinue  secret  prayer.  His  closet  will  be  more  intoler- 
able to  him  than  even  the  sanctuary,  whilst  he  persists  in 
sinning  against  light  and  conviction. 

These  solemn  facts  ought  never  to  be  forgotten  ;  but  ex- 
cept as  tests  of  character,  and  warnings  of  danger,  what 
have  they  to  do  with  your  case  ?  You  want  to  be  saved 
from  sin,  as  well  as  from  the  curse.  You  arc  willing  and 
solicitous  to  be  holy,  as  well  as  safe.  Is  it  not  because 
some  vice  still  enslaves  you,  that  you  are  afraid  lest  your 
prayers  should  not  be  answered,  or  that  your  faith  may 
prove  vain.  Your  fear  arises  chiefly  from  what  you  have 
been  as  a  sinner,  and  from  what  you  are  as  a  penitent. 
The  past  alarms  you  by  its  guilt,  and  the  present  by  its  im- 
perfections. It  is  not,  however,  actual  nor  habitual  sinning 
now,  that  clouds  your  mind  with  doul)ts  and  fears.  Your 
present  difliculty  (and  it  is  a  pressing  one)  is  to  see  how 
prayers,  so  imperfect  as  yours,  can  be  answered  or  accept- 
ed by  God,  especially  as  you  are  not  sure  that  you  pray  in 


PRAYER     AND     SAVING     FAITH.  159 

faith.  Here  is  your  chief  discouragement :  not.  only  all 
the  "plagues"  of  your  heart  seem  to  forbid  hope,  but  you 
suspect  that  it  is  still  "  an  evil  heart  of  unbelief ;  and 
knowing  that  without  faith,  it  is  impossible  to  please  God, 
you  are  thus  afraid  at  times  to  hope  or  pray.  And  yet  you 
cannot  give  up  either  altogether.  Well,  you  have  no  occa- 
sion to  give  up  hoping  or  praying  ;  for  praying  with  the 
heart  is  believing  with  the  heart. 

This  is,  I  am  aware,  merely  bringing  the  matter  to  the 
same  point  again,  without  any  additional  proof  of  the  truth 
of  that  point.  More  proof  is,  however,  at  hand.  Now 
nothing  can  be  conceived  as  more  opposite  or  unlike  to  un- 
belief th^n  humble  prayer,  in  the  name  of  Christ,  for  a  holy 
salvation.  Whatever  difficulty  you  may  fin  1,  therefore,  in 
caUing  such  prayer  faith,  it  is  certainly  impossible  to  call 
it  unbelief,  without  violating  all  propriety.  Unbelief,  even 
when  in  its  softest  form,  is  careless  about  salvation — in- 
different to  the  Saviour — averse  to  prayer — heedless  of 
holiness,  and  not  afraid  of  the  wrath  to  come.  Unbelief  is 
not  ashamed  of  itself — nor  much  shocked  at  sin,  except 
when  sin  is  very  gross  indeed.  Unbelief  has  no  ardent 
longings  after  union  whh  Christ  or  communion  with  God. 
Unbelief  does  not  try  to  get  hold  of  the  promises,  nor  pray 
for  their  fulfilment.  UnbeHef  does  not  weep  at  the  foot 
of  the  cross,  nor  rejoice  to  go  to  the  mercy-seat. 

This  is  Unbelief.  But  this  is  not  the  state  of  your 
mind  towards  the  salvation  or  the  service  of  God  and  the 
Lamb.  Almost  the  very  reverse  of  this  is  the  real  state  of 
your  feelings  and  desires.  Thank  God,  therefore,  and  take 
couraoe  ! 


160        PRAYER,  PROOF  OF  THE  WORK 


No.  IV. 

PRAYER,      PROOF      OF     THE       WORK,      AND       WIT- 
NESS    OF     THE      HOLY     SPIRIT. 

Whoever  has  a  praying  spirit,  has  both  the  work  and 
the  witness  of  the  Holy  Spirit  begun  within  him.  All  real 
suppliants  are  really  partakers  of  the  Spirit  of  grace  and 
supplication.  Were  this  well  understood,  and  habitually 
remembered  by  the  prayerful,  it  would  both  confirm  their 
love  to  prayer,  and  settle  that  absorbing  question — Am  I 
born  again  of  the  Spirit  ?  This  solemn  question  has  often 
made  you  solemn.  It  has  occasionally  agitated  your  whole 
soul.  No  wonder  :  for  "  if  any  man^''  however  moral  or 
amiable,  "  liaxse  not  the  Spirit  of  Christ,  he  is  none  of  his  ;" 
*'  Except  a  man  be  born  of  the  Spirit,  he  cannot  enter  into 
the  Kingdom  of  God."  Ever  since  you  read  those  solemn 
oracles,  so  as  to  mark  and  inwardly  digest  them,  you  have 
felt  that  saving  piety  is  more  than  a  mere  good  character, 
and  that  personal  religion  is  more  than  the  discharge  of  re- 
ligious duties.  These  "  true  sayings  of  God,"  have  turned 
your  attention  in  upon  the  state  of  your  heart,  as  well  as 
out  upon  the  state  of  your  morals.  You  feel  now  that  you 
must  "  be  born  again,"  if  you  would  enter  the  kingdom  of 
God.  Your  convictions  on  this  point  are  gone  so  far  be- 
yond those  of  Nicodemus,  that  it  is  needless  to  say  unto 
you,  "  Marvel  not  that  ye  must  be  born  again."  You  have 
ceased  to  "marvel"  at  the  necessity  of  a  change  of  heart, 
ever  since  you  discovered  the  plagues  of  your  own  heart. 
Any  marvelling  you  ever  felt  has  given  place  to  praying  for 
a  new  heart,  and  a  right  spirit.  To  be  the  subject  of  the 
work  and  witness  of  the  Holy  Spirit  is  now  your  chief 
concern,  and  your  daily  prayer.  And  your  chief  fear  is, 
lest  that  Spirit,  whom  you  have  grieved  so  often,  and  neg- 
lected so  long,  should  refuse  to  take  away  the  heart  of 
stone,  or  to  give  you  a  heart  of  flesh.     You  even  feel,  at 


OF    THE    HOLY     SPIRIT.  161 

times,  as  if  he  had  refused  to  work  upon  your  soul,  and 
ceased  to  strive  with  you.     And  even  when  these  strivings 
are  renewed,  you  are  afraid  that  they  do  not  amount  to  sa- 
ving operations  of  the  Holy  Spirit,  because  they  do  not  pro- 
duce such  a  change  of  heart  as  you   desire  to  experience. 
And  even  when  you  are  almost  convinced  that  what  you 
have  experienced  is  the  beginning  of  His  work  on  your 
heart,  how  often  are  all  your  fond  hopes  overthrown  again 
by  the  questions—"  But  where  is  the  witness  of  the  Spirit 
with  my  spirit  ?     If  I  were,  indeed,  born  of  the    Spirit, 
would  he  not  witness  within  me,  that  I  am  a  child  of  God  ?" 
Such  are  some  of  your  ponderings  and  perplexities  upon 
this  solemn  subject.     Sometimes  you  think  that  the  Holy 
Spirit  has  given  you  up  entirely  ;  at  other  times,  that  what 
you  feel  is  only  his  common,  not  his  special  influence  •  and 
even  when  it  is  best  with  you,  you  are,  as  you  imagine,' 
such  a  stranger  to  the  witness  of  the  Spirit,  that  you   can 
take  but    little  comfort  from  what  you  feel  of  his  work 
Much  of  this  fear  is,  however,  really  unnecessary;  for  it 
chiefly  arises  from  misapprehending  the  work  and  witness 
of  the  Holy  Spirit.     A  spirit  of  prayer  is  proof  of  the  pos- 
session of  something  of  both,  in  the  case  of  all  who  are 
looking  to  Christ,  and  trying  to  be  holy.     Prayer,  even  if 
secret,  proves  nothing  of  the  work  or  witness  of  the  Spirit 
m  the  case  of  those  who  are  going  on  in  open  or  secret 
sm.      The  sensual  have  not  the  Spirit.     But  where  prayer 
IS  loved,  and  not  belied  by  sensuality  or  dishonesty,  it  is  it- 
self  the  first-fruit  of  the  Spirit,  and  positive  evidence  of  his 
saving  operations  being  begun  in  the  heart. 

Did  this  never  occur  to  your  mind  in  the  course  of  all 
your  ponderings  on  the  subject  ?  Who  inclined  your  heart 
to  pray  ?  Who  overcame  the  aversion  and  reluctance  you 
once  felt  to  pouring  out  your  heart  unto  God  in  secret  ?  "  Who 
opened  tlune  eyes^^  to  see  your  need  of  an  interestin  Christ 
so  clearly,  that  you  can  no  longer  refrain  from  praying  to 
be  found  in  him  ?»  Who  brought  you  to  feel  that  there  is 
nothing  between  you  and  hell,  but  the  blood  of  Christ  ? 
14* 


162  PRAYER,     PROOF     OF     THE     WORK 

Who  awakened  your  present  convictions  and  desires  ? 
Here  is  a  change,  and  a  change  for  the  better,  in  the  state 
of  your  mind :  who  produced  it  ?  If  you  are  afraid  to 
ascribe  it  to  the  Spirit  of  God,  to  what  can  you  trace  it  ? 
Satan  woukl  not  teach  you  such  lessons  ;  and,  certainly, 
the  example  of  the  world  has  not  led  you  into  your  closet 
to  cry  for  mercy  and  grace.  Your  trials  in  life  may  have 
had  much  to  do  with  the  change  ;  but  that  fact,  instead  of 
disproving  it  to  be  a  divine  change,  makes  it  more  than  prob- 
able that  It  is  so ;  for  nothing  is  more  common,  in  the  work 
of  the  Spirit,  than  to  sanctify  the  trials  of  life  to  the  good 
of  the  soul.  In  every  view  of  the  case,  therefore,  it  is 
your  duty  to  regard  the  change,  from  a  prayerless  to  a 
prayerful  spirit,  as  the  effect  of  divine  influence  and  opera- 
tion. There  is  no  other  way  of  accounting  for  it  satisfac- 
torily and  rationally.  It  is  a  "  good  gift"  so  far  ;  and,  there- 
fore, it  must  have  come  "  down  from  the  Father  of  lights." 
You  will  be  convinced  of  this,  by  observing  how  your  views 
and  feelings  in  prayer  correspond  with  the  scriptural  ac- 
counts of  the  work  of  the  Spirit.  Paul  says,  "  The  Spirit 
maketh  intercession  fur  us  with  groanings  which  cannot  he 
uttered.''''  Thus  he  ascribes  to  the  Holy  Spirit's  special  in- 
tercession, a  kind  of  prayer  which  we  hardly  regard  as 
prayer  at  all.  We  are  apt  to  think  that  we  do  not  pray  in 
the  spirit,  unless  we  enjoy  great  enlargement  of  heart,  and 
freedom  of  utterance.  Accordingly,  the  devotional  hours 
which  we  recollect  with  most  pleasure,  and  which  we  can 
never  forget,  are  those  which  were  marked  with  a  holy 
calm — a  sweet  melancholy — and  a  free  flow  of  tears,  and 
tenderness,  and  suitable  words.  Then  we  felt  that  the 
Spirit  was,  indeed,  helping  our  infirmities  !  And  could  we 
always,  or  even  often,  pray  in  that  manner,  we  should  al- 
most feel  warranted  to  believe  that  we  had  the  seal  of  the 
Spirit  upon  our  souls.  But  as  it  is  not  often  that  we  enjoy 
such  enlargement  of  heart,  we  hardly  know,  at  times,  what 
to  think  of  our  experience. 

Now,  it  is  not  to  divert  your  attention  or  your  love  from 


OF     THE     HOLY     SPIRIT.  163 

this  kind  of  prayer,  that  I  remind  you  of  another  kind, 
which  if  less  pleasing  to  you,  is,  perhaps,  more  pleasing  to 
God,  and  certainly  more  decisive  of  the  help,  and  presence 
of  the  Spirit.  "  Groanings  which  cannot  be  uttered,"  prove, 
far  more  than  any  flow  of  words  or  feelings,  that  the  heart 
is  right  with  God,  and  that  the  Holy  Spirit  is  working 
mightily  in  it.  We  may  look  back  with  shame  upon  those 
approaches  to  the  mercy-seat,  during  which  we  could 
hardly  utter  a  single  word,  but  merely  groaned  in  spirit : 
but  the  intercessor  before  the  throne  was  not  ashamed  to 
present  those  desires  to  the  Father,  nor  to  say  of  them,  "  a 
broken  and  a  contrite  heart,  0  God,  thou  wilt  not  despise." 
He  saw  in  those  unutterable  groans  and  deep  sighs,  not  the 
accidental  workings  of  our  own  nature,  but  the  workings  of 
''  a  divine  nature,"  struggling  against  the  body  of  sin  and 
death — the  strivings  of  the  spirit  against  the  flesh.  Yes, 
when  you  thought  that  you  were  not  praying  at  all,  while 
thus  groaning  under  the  burden  of  your  sin  and  unworthi- 
ness,  you  were  praying  best.  And  were  the  Saviour  to  say 
to  you,  as  to  Nathaniel,  "  When  thou  wast  under  the  fig- 
Iree,  I  saw  thee,"  he  would  undoubtedly  refer  chiefly  to  the 
times  when  you  were  so  troubled  in  spirit  that  you  could 
not  speak.  'I  he  prayers  we  ha^'e  most  cause  to  be  ashamed 
of  are  those  which  we  can  go  through  without  eflbrt  or  feel- 
ing. We  are  not  praying  at  all,  whilst  merely  repeating 
words.  Nothing  is  prayer  but  the  desires  of  the  heart ;  and 
they  are  never  so  fully  or  directly  from  the  spirit  of  God, 
as  when  they  are  unutterable  by  words.  Indeed,  this  is  a 
state  of  mind  quite  unnatural  to  man.  There  is  nothing  in 
us,  nor  in  human  means,  to  produce  it.  It  gets  no  help 
from  any  power  or  aflection  of  our  nature.  Imagination 
will  help  the  prayer  of  joy,  and  the  prayer  of  faith,  and  the 
prayer  of  gratitude  ;  but  not  the  humble  prayer  of  peni- 
tence.     It  is  from  the  "  intercession"  of  the  Spirit. 

Now  you  know,  experimentally,  something  of  this  kind 
of  prayer.  There  are  times  when  a  sense  of  your  own 
unworthiness  comes  over  your  soul  like  a  heavy  and  suflTo- 


164        PRAYER,  PROOF  OF  THE  WORK 

eating  cloud.  You  can  hardly  breathe  under  it.  You  feel 
as  if  your  heart  would  break,  it  is  so  full  and  so  heavy.  It 
is  only  now  and  then  that  you  are  able  to  groan  out  the  cry 
of  Job,  "  Behold,  I  am  vile."  The  prayer  of  the  publican 
is  not  humble  enough  for  your  sinking  spirit ;  you  would 
go  deeper  in  self-abasement  if  you  knew  how.  You  abhor 
yourself,  and  lay  your  face  in  the  dust  before  God.  You 
are  terrified  at  despair,  yet  afraid  to  hope.  You  can  hardly 
see  how  God  can  pity  you.  It  seems  to  you  almost  pre- 
sumption to  pray  for  mercy  ;  and  when  you  do,  it  is  by  a 
groan  or  a  sigh.  These  are  solemn  moments!  The  silence 
is  so  deep,  and  we  are  so  alone  with  God,  that  we  are 
afraid  to  speak.  God,  in  his  majesty,  is  before  us  ;  eter- 
nity, in  its  solemnity  is  before  us ;  and  were  it  not  that  we 
still  see  something  of  the  Cross  amidst  the  overwhelming 
scene,  we  feel  that  life  or  reason  must  fail  under  it.  You 
remember  these  moments  ;  but  you  remember  also  that  you 
did  not  think  then  that  you  were  praying,  far  less  that  you 
were  praying  in  the  Spirit.  You  left  your  closet  on  those 
nights,  ashamed  and  confounded  that  you  could  not  pray. 
You  felt  yourself  as  far  off  from  the  mercy  of  God  as  you 
felt  near  to  the  majesty  of  God.  One  wish  that  often 
passed  through  your  heart  was,  that  the  holy  Spirit  would 
help  your  infirmities,  and  enable  you  to  pray.  You  had  no 
idea  that  he  was  working  in  you  mightily  at  the  moment, 
and  never  more  gracious  to  you.  But,  verily,  God  was 
with  you  then,  as  with  Jacob  on  Bethel,  although  you 
"  knew  it  not"  at  the  time 

Does  this  view  of  the  matter  surprise  you  at  all  ?  It 
ought  not  in  the  least :  for,  if  you  look  back  to  those  sea- 
sons of  unutterable  groanings,  you  will  soon  recollect  that 
you  never  were  more  humble  before  God  ;  never  more  self- 
condemned,  or  self-emptied,  than  when  your  spirit  was  so 
pained  within  you  that  you  could  not  speak.  It  was  then, 
especially,  that  you  saw  and  felt  that  God  would  be  just 
even  if  he  condemned  you ;  that  you  could  say  nothing 
against  his  law  or  his  gospel,  however  their  penal  sane- 


OFTHEHOLYSPIRIT.  165 

tions  might  sink  you  ;  that  you  had  deserved  all  the  curse, 
and  none  of  the  blessing  of   God.     You  felt  through  all 
your  soul  also,  that  you  were  entirely,  and  must  be  eter- 
nally, at  the  disposal  of  the  divine  will;  and   that  there 
was,  indeed,  nothing  between  you  and  perishing  but  the 
blood  of  Christ.     You  did  not  see  at  the  time,  how  the 
atonement  met  all  the    difficulties  in  your  case  ;  but  you 
saw  noihing  else  that  met  any  of  them.     Every  thing  else, 
as  a  ground  of  hope,  appeared  to  you  a  mere  refuge  of  lies! 
The  Lamb  slain  had  all  your  attention  ;  and  any  hope  you 
ventured  to    cherish  sprung  from  his  cross  and  character. 
You  had  not,  indeed,  much  hope  in  him,  and  still  less  con- 
fidence, but  you  had  none  in  any  thing  else.     Now,  what 
was  all  this,  but  the  Spirit  fulfilling  in  you  the  promise  of 
Christ  concerning  his  work  :   "  He  shall  convince  of  sin,  and 
of  righteousness,  and  of  judgment .?"     The  grand  end  of  the 
Spirit's  office  is,  "  to  glorify"  the  Saviour  ;  and  the  Saviour 
IS  never  more   glorified  than  when  the  soul  is  brought  to 
look  away,  and  flee  away,  from  every  thing  to  him.     This 
IS  the  ^[i'mi's  foundation-work  in  the  soul,  when  he  is  about 
to  dwell  in  the  heart. 

Remember  also  the  influence  which  those  solemn  sea- 
sons  had  upon  your  character  and  habits.  How  thought- 
ful, watchful,  and  steady  you  became,  under  the  solemn 
consciousness  that  your  eternal  all  was  in  jeopardy  !  How 
It  tamed  your  levity,  and  broke  down  your  pride,  to  find 
that  you  could  not  pray,  nor,  of  yourself,  think  a  good 
thought !  You  were  never  so  little  nor  so  low  in  your  own 
esteem,  as  when  you  rose  from  your  knees,  unable  to  pray 
but  in  broken  sighs  and  burning  tears.  Your  character  was 
never  better  than  whilst  you  had  to  leave  your  closet,  day 
after  day,  saying  to  yourself,— "  Well,  it  must  all  rest  on 
the  will  of  God  ;  for  I  can  do  nothing  but  groan  for  mercy. 
If  prayer  could  save  me,  I  cannot  pray.  Lord,  I  am  op- 
pressed,  undertake  for  me:'  You  did  not  think  lightly  of 
sin  then,  nor  expose  yourself  to  temptation.  You  "took  no 
liberties  with  the  Sabbath  then,  and  had  no  relish  for  world- 


166  PRAYER,     PROOF     OF     THE     WORK 

ly  pleasures.  The  Bible  was  not  the  least-read  book  on 
your  table  then,  nor  its  pages  hastily  read.  A  prayer-meeting 
was  not  a  tame  nor  tedious  service  then,  but  a  sweet  help 
under  your  own  difRculties  in  praying.  Your  spirit  and 
deportment  improv'ed,  too,  under  your  humbling  sense  of 
your  own  weakness  and  unworthiness.  You  were  meeker, 
gentler,  and  less-easily  offended  than  formerly.  YoU  were 
afraid  of  anger,  and  of  peevishness,  and  of  all  jangling, 
lest  they  should  make  all  that  was  bad  in  the  closet,  worse. 
You  had  neither  time  nor  inclination  to  fret  yourself  about 
the  trifles  which  vex  those  who  care  little  about  their  souls. 
In  a  word,  many  of  the  best  parts  of  your  character,  and 
of  your  habits  in  life,  were  actually  formed  whilst  you  were 
hanging  between  hope  and  despair,  and  groaning  in  spirit 
before  the  Lord. 

I  do  not  mean,  of  course,  that  your  happier  moments  in 
prayer  were  less  holy  in  their  direct  influence.  Sweet 
communion  with  God  in  prayer  is  sure  to  have  a  sweet  in- 
fluence upon  our  temper  and  habits,  because  we  have  then 
something  worth  taking  care  of,  and  too  valuable  to  be  sac- 
rificed for  the  sake  of  trifles.  A  man  whose  closet  is 
really  a  Bethel,  and  whose  heart  is  happy,  in  the  conscious- 
ness of  the  divine  presence,  will  do  much  and  suffer  much, 
rather  than  open  the  door  of  either  to  ill-humour,  or  useless 
pursuits.  He  knows,  by  experience,  how  easily  the  veil  is 
drawn  upon  the  mercy-seat,  and  how  diflicult  it  is  to  un- 
draw it  again  ;  and,  therefore,  watches  both  his  temper  and 
his  habits,  that  they  may  not  get  between  him  and  the 
''face  of  the  throne."  Indeed,  he  can  neither  indulge  ill 
habits  nor  ill  humours  whilst  he  maintains  "  fellowship  with 
the  Father,  and  with  the  Son."  It  is,  therefore,  no  wonder 
that  we  refer  to  the  help  of  the  Holy  Spirit  those  prayers 
chiefly  which  make  us  happiest,  seeing  they  also  make  us 
holiest.  Much,  however,  of  their  holy  influence  arises 
from  the  prior  influence  of  "  the  groanings  which  cannot  be 
uttered."  They  laid,  or  dug,  the  foundations  of  our  reli- 
gious character ;  and,  but  for  these  straits  in  prayer,  we 


OF    THE    HOLY     SPIRIT.  167 

should  either  have  not  prized  enlargement,  or  not  improved 
it  fully. 

I  thus  remind  you  of  the  humbling  and  sanctifying  in- 
fluence of  o^r  speechless  prayers,  (which  we  did  not  think 
prayers  at  the  time,)  that  you  may  see  clearly  their  divine 
origin.  They  are  the  intercession  of  the  Spirit,  excited 
and  sustained  by  Him,  as  the  teacher  and  helper  of  the 
church. 


No.  V. 

THE   ACTUAL   PRESENCE   AND   HELP  OF  THE 
SPIRIT  IN  PRAYER. 

Were  we  fully  aware  of  the  full  meaning  of  our  words, 
when  we  say  that  God  is  the  Hearer  of  prayer,  Christ  the 
Intercessor  for  prayer,  and  the  Holy  Spirit  the  Helper  in 
prayer,  we  could  not  pray  without  deep  solemnity  and  real 
pleasure.  The  amazing  fact  that  the  sacred  Trinity  unite 
in  equal  attention  to  prayer,  could  not  fail,  if  duly  weighed 
and  vividly  realized,  to  awe  and  animate  our  souls,  when- 
ever we  knelt  at  the  mercy-seat.  But,  alas  I  though  in 
one  sense  quite  familiar  with  this  sweet  and  sublime  fact, 
it  is  not  often  that  Ave  pray  under  its  sweet  and  solemn  in- 
fluence. Accordingly,  it  is  almost  a  new  fact  to  us,  both 
when  we  see  it  vividly  presented  by  others,  and  when  we 
ourselves  enter  into  the  spirit  of  it.  Then,  like  Job,  we 
resolve  all  our  past  impressions  of  God  into  "  the  hearing 
of  the  ear,"  and  exclaim,  "  But  now — mine  eye  seetli  theeP 

It  is.  indeed,  humiliating  to  acknowledge  that  our  reali- 
zing views  of  Father,  Son,  and  Spirit,  being  equally  interested 
in  prayer,  should  be  so  few  and  far  between.  It  is,  how- 
ever, only  too  true  ;  and  it  is  necessary  to  acknowledge  it 
to  ourselves  fully,  that  we  may  set  upon  ascertaining  its 


168      THE  ACTUAL  PRESENCE  AND  HELP 

causes  and  cure.  Many  of  its  causes  are,  indeed,  easily 
ascertained.  We  sometimes  hurry  into  the  presence  of 
God,  and  even  hurry  over  the  duty  of  prayer.  Instead  of 
pausing  to  compose  our  spirits,  or  to  collect  our  scattered 
thoughts  by  reading  a  portion  of  the  Scriptures,  we  often 
enter  at  once  upon  the  duty.  In  like  manner,  we  do  not  in 
general  expect  to  enjoy  communion  with  God,  nor  to  find 
much  pleasure  in  our  closets.  We  are  even  in  danger  of 
taking  for  granted,  that  intimate  communion  with  God  is 
not  often  to  be  obtained.  We  have  heard  it  spoken  of  as 
a  special  privilege  ;  and  thus  we  imagine  that  it  must  of 
course,  be  a  rare  thing.  And  when  these  misapprehensions 
and  hurries  are  combined  with  any  degree  of  a  bad  con- 
science towards  God  or  man,  it  is  no  wonder  that  our  real- 
izing views  of  the  divine  presence  are  both  few  and  feeble. 
For  how  could  they  be  otherwise,  whilst  we  expect  little, 
and  prepare  less  ?  Oh,  it  was  not  thus,  it  could  not  be  thus, 
that  the  disciples  entered  their  closets  to  pray,  after  the  day 
of  Pentecost !  When  they  knew  fully  that  the  Spirit  would 
help  their  infirmities,  and  that  their  ascended  Lord  would 
intercede  for  them,  and  that  their  heavenly  Father  would 
hear  and  answer  prayer,  they  could  not  have  knelt  without 
awe,  nor  pleaded  without  hope.  It  was  impossible,  whilst 
these  glorious  facts  were  before  them,  in  all  \\\q\x  freshness, 
that  they  could  be  formal  or  heartless  in  devotioii  :  for,  next 
to  the  open  vision  of  the  throne  of  grace  in  heaven,  it  is 
the  vivid  belief  of  the  truth  concerning  that  throne  ; — it  is, 
indeed,  *'  the  evidence  of  things  not  seen,  and  the  substance 
of  things  hoped  fur.'''' 

If  you  have  not  fully  realized  this,  or  if  you  find  it  diffi- 
cult to  do  so,  there  is,  perhaps,  nothing  human  could  help 
you  so  much  as  a  calm  consideration  of  the  case  of  the 
disciples,  when  th(^y  understood  clearly  the  arrangements 
of  heaven  for  hearing  prayer.  The  disciples,  although 
gradually  introduced  to  an  acquaintance  with  the  nature  of 
prayer,  did  not,  like  us,  grow  up  familiar,  from  their  youth, 
with  all  the  facts  of  the  subject.     Some  of  the  chief  facts 


OF    THE     SPIRIT     IN     PRAYER.  169 

flashed  out  upon  them  suddenly  and  unexpectedly.  They 
never  dreamt  of  such  a  thing  as  the  intercession  of  Christ, 
or  the  help  of  the  Spirit  in  prayer,  until  the  facts  were  re- 
vealed to  them  on  the  day  of  Pentecost.  All  this,  as  we 
know  it,  was  entirely  new  to  them.  Tliey  were  not,  indeed, 
utter  strangers,  before,  to  the  ofrice  of  the  Father,  Son,  and 
Spirit,  in  relation  to  prayer.  They  were  even  well  ac- 
quainted with  the  paternal  character  of  God,  and  had  heard 
much  of  the  efficacy  of  the  "  Name"  of-Christ,  in  connexion 
with  prayer.  In  like  'manner  they  were  not  entirely  igno- 
rant of  the  work  of  the  Holy  Spirit :  but  knew  as  much  of 
the  whole  subject  as  made  them  very  prayerful.  Their 
knowledge,  however,  came  far  short  of  the  amazing  and 
magnificenl  fact — fehat  the  enthroned  Saviour  ever  lived  to 
intercede  for  them  ;  and  the  eternal  Spirit,  to  help  their 
infirmities  in  prayer  !  This  was  almost  completely  new  to 
them,  and  must  have  given  almost  a  new  aspect  to  prayer 
itself.  Whatever  tliey  expected  from  .the  promises  that 
Christ  would  remember  them,  and  that  the  Spirit  would  help 
them,  was  far  exceeded,  and  almost  eclipsed,  by  the  glory 
of  that  remembrance,  and  the  grace  of  that  help.  They 
felt,  if  not  said,  when  the  promise  was  fulfilled,  "  ike  half 
was  not  told  us  /" 

You  perceive  that  this  is  a  fair  statement  of  their  case, 
so  far.  Imagine,  then,  with  what  solemnity  and  delight  the 
disciples  retired,  for  the  first  time,  to  pray,  with  these  facts, 
in  all  the  freshness  of  their  glory,  vividly  before  them.  If 
their  closets  had  been  the  gate  of  heaven  before,  how 
much  more  widely  that  gate  was  opened  then !  Then 
they  could  see  Jesus  before  the  throne,  presenting  their 
prayers,  embalmed  with  the  incense  of  his  actual  interces- 
sion. Then  they  could  calculate  upon  help  from  the  Holy 
Spirit,  not  only  in  their  public  work,  but  also  in  their  pri- 
vate warfare  against  sin  and  Satan.  How  they  must  have 
prayed  the  first  night  that  all  this  was  revealed  to  them  ! 
With  what  looks  they  must  have  met,  with  what  emphasis 
said,  to  each  other,  when  they  knew  it — Jesus  ever  liveth 

VOL.    I. — 15 


170  THE     ACTUAL     PRESENCE     AND     HELP 

to  intercede  for  us  !  The  Holy  Spirit  helpeth  us  to  pray, 
as  well  as  to  preach ! 

I  thus  try  to  depict  the  whole  scene  that  you  may  easily 
realize  it,  and  feel  how  impossible  it  is  to  pray  coldly, 
whilst  the  intercession  of  Christ,  and  the  help  of  the  Spirit 
are  clearly  before  the  mind.  You  see,  you  feel,  that  the 
disciples  never  could  have  prayed  before  as  they  did  that 
night.  You  feel  that,  had  you  been  one  of  them,  you  must, 
like  them,  have  been  amazed  and  melted  by  the  discovery 
of  these  facts.  Well,  the  facts  themselves,  are  the  same. 
Their  value  does  not  depend  upon  a  sudden  discovery  of 
them.  You  have  come  to  the  knowledge  of  them  gradual- 
ly ;  but  you  do  know  them,  and  can  set  yourself  to  realize 
them.  You  have,  whilst  reading  these  imperfect  hints, 
shaken  ofi'  something  of  your  cold  famili;irity  with  them, 
and  fell  that  it  is  possible  to  shake  olT  more  of  it.  You 
have  caught  a  glimpse  of  the  right  way  of  looking  at  the 
office  of  the  Sun  and  Spirit,  in  the  case  of  prayer.  You 
are  resolved  to  recollect  this  hint  to-night,  when  you  retire 
to  kneel  at  the  mercy-seat. 

It  may  be,  however,  that  the  very  clearness  with  which 
vou  now  see  the-  amazing  fact,  that  the  Holy  Spirit  does 
kelp  in  prayer,  makes  you  doubt  whether  you  have  ever 
experienced  his  help  in  prayer.  ,You  may  feel  afraid  to 
refer  your  own  earnest  supplications  to  a  source  so  high. 
It  seems  too  good  news  to  be  true,  that  the  Eternal  Spirit 
should  have  inclined  our  hearts  to  pray,  and  enabled  us  to 
pray  according  to  the  will  of  God  !  It  is  really  more  diffi- 
cult to  admit  this  to  be  true  in  our  own  case,  than  it  was 
for  "  holy  men  of  old"  to  believe  their  own  inspiration.  In 
speaking  as  the  Spirit  moved  them,  the  movements  of  the 
Spirit  were  so  sensible  and  extraordinary,  that  the  prophets 
could  not  floubt  the  reality  of  their  inspiration.  But,  in  our 
case,  the  drawing  and  oj)eningof  the  heart  to  pray,  have  been 
so  gradual,  and  are  so  partial,  that  ii  seems  presumption  to 
ascribe  such  a  .slender  effect  to  such  a  majestic  cause.  We 
know,  and  can  never  forget,  how  imperfect  and  impure  our 


OF     THE     SPIRIT     IN     PRAYER.  171 

best  prayers  have  been.  As  acts  of  our  own  understanding 
and  conscience  we  are  ashamed  of  them ;  how  then  can 
we  connect  them  with  the  operations  of  the  Spirit  of  God  ? 
We  feel  our  prayers  to  be  unworthy  of  the  natural  powers 
of  our  own  spirit :  how  much  more  of  the  divine  power  of 
the  Holy  Spirit ! 

The  man  who  has  never  felt  this  deeply,  has  never 
thought  deeply  upon  the  subject.  Oh,  it  is  no  easy  matter 
to  say,  "  with  the  understanding," — the  Eternal  Spirit  has 
helped  my  infirmities  in  prayer !  It  is  easy  to  talk  and 
argue  about  the  influences,  operations,  and  outpourings  of 
the  Spirit ;  but  to  say,  as  in  the  presence  of  God,  I  have 
felt  them ;  and  know  experimentally  that  the  Holy  Spirit  has 
welcomed  and  helped  me  to  pray :  he  must  think  twice  before 
he  speaks  once,  who  speaks  thus.  You  feel  this  ;  and  are, 
perhaps,  becoming  more  afraid  than  ever  to  admit  the  amazing 
fact  in  your  own  case.  You  have  been  pleased  and  profit- 
ed by  secret  devotion  ;  and  have  thought  at  the  time  that 
surely  the  Spirit  was  helping  your  infirmities  ;  but,  now 
that  the  solemn  grandeur  of  that  help  is  breaking  out  upon 
you,  you  dare  hardly  believe  that  ever  you  have  been  really 
a  partaker  of  it !  Perhaps,  some  doubts  of  its  reality,  in 
any  case',  are  forcing  themselves  upon  your  mind,  and 
compelling  you  to  ask — does  the  Holy  Spirit  help  at  all 
now  in  prayer  ? 

Bringing  the  matter  to  this  point  may,  indeed,  agitate 
and  unhinge  you  for  a  moment ;  but  it  will  do  you  no  real 
harm.  It  will  do  you  real  good,  by  drawing  you  off  from 
taking  things  for  granted,  to  the  better  plan  of  proving  all 
things.  I  want  to  give  truth  the  force  of  truth  upon  your 
mind,  that  you  "  may  know  what  you  say,  and  whereof  you 
affirm,"  whenever  you  speak  of  the  office  or  operations  of 
the  Holy  Spirit.  I'or,  if  you  are  really  staggered  by  these 
views  of  the  matter,  it  is  certain  that  you  have  never  exam- 
ined the  matter  fully.  If  you  think  it  at  all  doubtful, 
whether  the  Spirit  still  helps  the  infirmities  of  the  prayer- 
ful, you  have  never  looked  steadfastly  upon  the  facts  of  the 


172      THE  ACTUAL  PRESENCE  AND  HELP 

case.  For  what  are  the  facts  in  regard  to  the  continued 
help  of  the  Spirit  ?  Why,  one  of  them  is  that  the  denial 
of  it  involves  the  virtual  overthrow  of  the  whole  gospel. 
The  work  of  the  Spirit,  and  tl\e  truth  of  the  Word,  stand  or 
fall  together.  The  men  who  have  denied  or  derided  the 
doctrine  of  the  Spirit's  influences,  might  just  as  well  have 
denied  that  God  hears  prayer,  or  that  Christ  interc.des  for 
the  prayerful.  For  there  is  nothing  implied  in  all  the  work 
of  the  Holy  Spirit  that  is  less  credible,  or  less  rational,  or 
less  likely,  than  what  is  implied  in  the  work  of  the  Fa- 
ther and  the  Son.  If  the  Father  can  hear,  the  Spirit  can 
help  :  if  the  Son  can  intercede,  the  Spirit  can  assist.  Why, 
then,  if  I  am  not  visionary  when  I  say,  "  God  will  hear 
me,"  sliould  I  he  called  so,  or  think  myself  so,  when  1  say, 
"  the  Spirit  will  help  me  ?"  Even  natural  religion  admits 
that  the  Father  of  our  spirits  has  access  to  our  spirits,  and 
may  influence  them.  Some  Deists  have  even  prayed  to 
God  for  divine  direction.  Unless,  therefore,  I  were  to 
become  an  Atheist,  or  to  deny  that  God  can  hear  prayer,  I 
cannot  be  visionary  whilst  believing  that  He  who  conde- 
scends to  hear  it,  will  condescend  to  help  it.  Thus  tri- 
umphantly, you  see,  the  help  of  the  Spirit  may  be  demon- 
strated. It  is,  indeed,  wcmderful  that  the  Eterfml  Spirit 
should  act  upon  our  hearts,  and  draw  out  our  desires  after 
salvation  and  holiness  :  but  not  at  all  more  wonderful  than 
that  the  Father  should  listen  to  the  expression  of  these 
desires,  or  that  there  is  such  a  "  great  salvation"  to  pray 
for.  It  is  just  because  the  work  of  Christ  is  so  valuable 
and  glorious,  that  the  work  of  the  Spirit  is  so  sure  and  con- 
stant. Thus  there  is  no  more  reason  to  doubt  whether  the 
Spirit  contirnies  to  help  on  earth,  than  whether  the  Father 
continues  to  hear,  or  the  Son  to  intercede,  in  heaven. 

But  if  these  hints  establish  your  faith  in  the  fact  that  the 
Spirit  does  help  the  prayerful,  they  increase,  perhaps,  your 
fears  in  your  own  case.  Now  that  you  see  that  the  help 
is  as  rational  as  it  is  necessary,  you  hesitate  whether  to 
ascribe   to  the  work  of  the  Holy  Spirit  the  workings  of 


0  1     THE     SPIRIT     IN     PRAYER.  173 

your  own  spirit  in  prayer.  For  although  you  have  at  times 
felt  deeply,  and  wept  sincerely,  and  cried  fervently,  and 
resolved  solemnly,  before  the  throne  of  grace,  you  now 
suspect  that  even  all  this  hardly  comes  up  to  what  is  in- 
cluded in  divine  help.  You  imagine  that  if  a  "  spirit  of 
gra^e  and  supplication"  had  really  been  poured  out  upon 
you,  you  would  have  felt  far  more  than  all  this.  You  can 
scarcely  conceive  how  a  day  of  such  "small  things"  can 
be  the  fruit  of  so  great  a  Spirit  I  This  is  a  trying  dilemma. 
Your  mind  is  alive  to  the  truth  and  glory  of  help  from  on 
high  ;  but  both  the  truth  and  glory  of  it  make  you  afraid  that 
you  are  not  a  partaker  of  it.  You  are  unwilling  to  admit 
that  you  are  an  utter  stranger  to  the  influences  of  the  Holy 
Spirit ;  and  yet,  you  are  unable  to  say  with  certainty,  that 
you  are  a  subject  of  them.  You  wish  to  be  so — have 
sought  to  be  so — and  have  occasionally  hoped  that  you  were 
so ;  but  some  of  these  hints  have  thrown  you  out  of  your  usual 
track  of  thinking,  and  startled  you  so  that  you  cannot  yet 
recover  yourself.  It  is,  however,  a  good  sign  to  be  con- 
cerned about  the  work  of  the  Spirit,  and  afraid  of  mistaking 
it ;  "ybr  they  who  are  after  the  Spirit,  mind  the  things  'of  the 
Spirit ;"  whereas  they  who  are  after  the  flesh,  mind  only 
the  things  of  the  flesh.  Upon  this  scriptural  fact,  I  have 
often  been  glad  to  take  my  stand,  when,  like  you,  1  have 
felt  utterly  unable  or  afraid  to  answer  the  solemn  question, 
"  Have  ye  received  the  Holy  Spirit  ?"  I  durst  not  say  yes  ; 
and  to  say  no,  was  intolerable.  I  could  only  say,  "  Thou 
who  know  est  all  thmgs,  knowest  that  I  mind  the  things  of 
the  Spirit;  that  I  am  concerned  and  intent  upon  under- 
standing them,  and  praying  to  be  a  partaker  of  them." 
Now,  you  can  truly  say  this  ;  and,  therefore,  do  ;  cling  to 
this,  until  you  are  enabled  to  say  more. 

Your  great  difficulty,  now  that  you  see  the  help  of  the 
Holy  Spirit  to  be  a  reality,  is,  that  nothing  which  you  have 
experienced  seems  to  come  up  to  it.  The  Spirit  is  an  Al- 
mighty Agent ;  and  you  cannot  think  that  his  work  in  the 
heart  could  be  so  weak  as  it  is  in  your  heart.  I  recollect 
15* 


17  i      THE  ACTUAL  PRESENCE  AND  HELP 

being  sorely  oppressed  by  this  difficulty,  whilst  walking  in 
the  fields  one  day  alone.  It  was  in  summer,  when  the  in- 
sects were  sporting  in  the  sun.  It  occurred  to  me,  whilst 
gazing  upon  them,  that  each  of  these  tiny  insects  was  as 
much  the  work  of  Omnipotence  as  the  mightiest  angel ; 
that  its  almost  inaudible  hum  could  only  have  been  called 
forth  by  the  same  Power  which  inspires  the  hymn  of  the 
archangel.  I  then  saw  in  a  moment  that  "  small  things," 
in  the  beginning  of  a  work  of  grace,  may  be  as  really  the 
work  of  the  Spirit,  as  the  gift  of  prophecy  or  miracles  was 
so.  It  was  a  simple  process  of  thought ;  but  it  was  very 
useful  to  me.  And  it  is  strictly  just ;  for  as  nothing  but 
Omnipotence  could  have  created  an  insect  or  an  atom,  as 
well  as  an  orb  or  an  angel,  nothing  but  the  Holy  Spirit  could 
turn  the  heart  to  seek  its  happiness  in  the  holy  salvation  of 
God  :  for  this  is  utterly  unnatural  and  abhorrent  to  man,  and 
therefore  the  effect  of  divine  grace,  wherever  and  however 
it  is  produced.  Reflection,  and  especially  afflictions,  may, 
indeed,  work  a  very  considerable  change  of  character,  and 
drive  men  to  pray  earnestly  for  a  time  :  but  they  do  not 
sweeily  draw  to  prayer  nor  really  endear  it  long.  There  is 
a  mighty  difference  between  the  kind  of  help  which  they, 
when  alone,  give  in  prayer,  and  that  which  the  Holy  Spirit 
gives.  The  prayers  extorted  by  affliction  are  chiefly  for 
deliverance  from  if,  or  support  under  it.  When  they  regard, 
above  all  things,  the  sanctified  use  of  it,  there  is  a  higher 
power  than  affliction  operating  on  the  mind.  The  Holy 
Spirit  i.s  helping  mightily,  when  they  regard  a  change  of 
heart  more  than  a  change  of  condition — an  interest  in,  and 
conformity  to  C;hrist,  more  ihan  temporal  deliverance.  Oh, 
there  is  no  better  proof  of  "  having  the  Spirit,"  than  that 
we  would  rather  suffer  than  sin  ;  rather  be  the  prisoners 
of  Providence  than  the  votaries  of  vice  or  the  world! 

All  this  might  have  been  stated  at  once,  and  thns  you 
would  h  ive  escaped  whatever  ngit;ition  the  former  class  of 
remarks  occasioned.  If,  iiowevcr,  you  arc  beginning  to  re- 
cover vour  composure,  you  will  soon  stand  higher  and  firm- 


OP    THE     SPIRIT     IN     PRAYER.  175 

er  than  ever  you  did,  upon  "  the  ministration  of  the  Spir- 
it." My  object  was  to  bring  the  question  of  "  having  the 
Spirit,"  to  an  issue  ;  for  whilst  it  is  taken  for  granted,  or 
left  unsettled,  it  is  impossible  to  "  walk  or  pray  in  the  Spir- 
it." Many  leave  it  in  suspense  from  year  to  year,  and  are 
thus  all  their  life  long  subject  to  the  bondage  of  uncertainty. 
They  cannot  come  to  a  conclusion  upon  their  own  state  by 
a  hasty  glance ;  and  they  do  not  go  fully  into  the  question. 
They  are  afraid  to  decide,  and  unwilling  to  examine.  They 
mean  well,  but  they  think  little.  They  are  sincere,  but  they 
are  also  superficial.  The  consequence  is  they  seldom 
know  what  to  think  of  their  own  case.  Now,  how  much 
better,  and  in  fact  easier,  it  is  to  go  thoroughly  into  the 
subject,  until  we  ascertain  whether  or  not  we  are  partakers 
of  the  Spirit !  One  thorough  examination  of  the  question 
would  save  you  from  a  thousand  embarrassments  in  after- 
life. 


No.  VI. 

WALKING      IN     "the     LIGHT*,"     ESSENTIAL     TO 
FELLOWSHIP     WITH     GOD. 

Entire  and  eternal  "  fellowship"  with  God  and  the 
Lamb  is  tlie  perfection  of  the  bliss  of  heaven.  The  fellow- 
ship of  the  saints  with  all  the  "  innumerable  company  of 
angels,"  must  he  delightful  ;  and  the  fellowship  of  the 
saints  with  each  other  still  more  pleasing,  because  more 
natural  :  hut  the  fe.llowshipof  both  with  God  must  exceed,  in- 
finitely, all  the  oiher  social  erijo)'ments  of  heaven.  To  see 
hirnas  he  is,  to  hear  him  sj)eak,  to  speak  with  God  face  to  face 
as  a  man  doih  with  his  friend,  must  be  joy  "  full  of  glory." 
And  then — ihis  comnmnion  with  God  will  he  eternal  and 
universal  in  heaven.  All  will  enjoy  it  equally,  both  as  to 
degree  and  duration.     Oh,  no  wonder  that  all  must  be  holy^ 


/ 


176  ON     FELLOWSHIP     WITH     GOD. 

in  order  to  share  such  fellowship  with  God  !  An  unholy 
spirit  could  not  enjoy  it  even  if  admitted  into  it.  What 
God  shows  and  says  of  himself  from  the  throne,  to  pure 
spirits,  could  only  mortify  and  confound  impure  spirits. 
Every  look  of  unveiled  Godhead  would  wither  their  hearts, 
and  every  word  sling  their  consciences,  just  in  proportion 
as  the  looks  were  lovely  and  the  words  kind  ;  because  the 
unholy  would  feel  through  all  their  soul  that  these  smiles 
and  assurances  were  not  meant  for  them.  Thus  heaven 
itself  would  be  a  hell  to  beings  who  loved  sin  and  disliked 
holiness. 

Now,  as  perfect  holiness  is  essential  to  fellowship  with 
God  in  heaven,  so  the  love  and  pursuit  of  holiness  are  es- 
sential to  fellowship  with  him  on  earth  "  If  I  regard  in- 
iquity in  my  heart,"  said  David,  "  the  Lord  will  not  hear 
me." — "  If  we  say  that  we  have  fellowship  with  him,"  said 
John,  "  and  walk  in  darkness,  we  lie,  and  do  not  ihe  truth." 
Walking  with  God,  and  walking  in  darkness,  (that  is,  in 
secret  or  in  open  sin,)  are  utterly  incompatible.  They 
never  were  combined,  and  never  can  be.  The  appearance 
and  pretence  of  devotional  communion  with  God,  may  be 
combined  with  bad  habits,  so  as  to  deceive  the  world,  and 
the  church  too  ;  but  the  pretender  himself  is  no  more  de- 
ceived by  his  own  dexterity  than  God  is.  He  caimot  lie 
to  himself,  however  he  may  impose  on  others,  or  elude  de- 
tection. The  father  of  lies  cannot  lie  to  himself:  much 
less  can  his  most  expert  children  dupe  their  own  conscien- 
ces completely  or  through  life. 

It  is  supposed,  I  am  aware,  that  the  self-deception  of 
the  heart  is  so  very  great  that  even  a  sensualist  may  flat- 
ter himself  with  the  hope  of  salvation  and  bring  himself 
to  believe  that  sin  cannot  harm  him.  But,  although  some 
men  have  said  so,  and,  no  doubt,  thought  so  in  ihoir  own 
case,  for  a  time,  it  remains  yet  to  be  proved  that  any 
man  has  died  under  this  (hilusion,  or  even  lived  very  long 
under  it.  Men  of  this  stamp  do  not  pass  through  life 
■without  checks.     Reverses  of  some   kind  overtake   them 


ON     F  E  L  r,  0  W  S  H  I  P     WITH     GOD.  177 

sooner  or  later  ;  and  when  '  the  mighty  hand  of  God"  is 
upon  them,  its  pressure  soon  imdeceives  themselves,  even 
if  they  continue  to  deceive  others.  These  remarks  apply, 
of  course,  only  to  those  who  profess  themselves  to  be  the 
people  of  God,  notwithstanding  their  vices.  Men  utter- 
ly ignorant  of  the  doctrines  of  grace,  or  indifferent  about 
religion,  may  both  live  and  die  flattering  themselves  with 
the  hope  of  safety  :  but  flaming  professors,  who  are  vicious, 
cannot  carry  their  false  security  into  the  valley  of  the 
shadow  of  death.  The  first  sweep  of  the  swellings  of  Jor- 
dan wreck  their  peace. 

Gross  vice  is  not,  however,  the  only  "  darkness"  in 
which  no  fellowship  with  God  can  be  obtained.  Any  al- 
lowed sin  will  interrupt  it,  and  any  evil  habit  prevent  it. 
Fellowship  with  God  is  not  understood  where  this  is  not 
believed  and  felt.  If,  indeed,  fellowship  with  God  meant 
no  more  than  freedom  or  fervour  in  prayer,  there  might  be 
something  of  this  felt  at  times,  even  by  very  inconsistent 
professors  ;  for  they  are  overcome  occasionally  both  by  fear 
and  hope,  and  thus  drawn  into  something  very  like  the 
spirit  of  real  devotion.  But,  however  they  or  others  may 
call  these  meltings  of  the  heart,  communion  v/ith  God,  they 
are  not  so.  Even  the  delight  they  feel  in  prayer  at  such 
times  is  not  so.  Even  when  the  prayers  of  such  men  are 
both  sincere  and  fervent,  they  are  not  fellowship  with 
God. 

There  are  many  popular  mistakes  upon  this  subject, 
which  require  to  be  cleared  up,  for  the  sake  of  consistent, 
as  well  as  of  inconsistent,  professors.  The  general  opin- 
ion of  both  seems  to  be — that  communion  with  God  con 
sists  chiefly  in  enjoyment  at  the  sacrament,  and  during  se- 
cret prayer.  And  by  enjoyment  they  mean  sweet  thoughts 
and  tender  feelings,  arising  from  clear  views  of  the  love  of 
God,  and  of  the  glory  of  the  Saviour.  When  these  things 
touch  their  heart,  so  as  to  melt  them,  they  rejoice  in  hav- 
ing fellowship  with  God.  But  when  they  do  not  feel  thus, 
tliey  say  that  they  have  had  no  communion  vv'ilh  him. 


> 


178  ON     FELLOWSHIP     WITH     GOD. 

Now,  in  the  case  of  a  consistent  follower  of  the  Saviour, 
the  first  conclusion  is  quite  true  ;  his  delight  at  the  sacra- 
ment and  in  the  closet  is  real  fellowship  with  God  and  the 
Lamb.  But  his  second  conclusion  may  be  quite  untrue. 
The  want  of  such  enjoyment  is  not  necessarily  the  want 
of  fellowship  with  God,  or  with  the  Saviour.  It  may  even 
be  a  higher  and  holier  degree  of  it  than  what  we  call  en- 
joyment is.  Oh,  yes  !  when  the  soul  is  sunk  in  the  dust 
of  humility  and  self-abasement,  and  filled  to  overflowing 
with  grief,  and  shame,  and  haired,  and  loathing  of  sin  :  and 
so  absorbed  in  feeling  the  necessity  and  desirableness  of 
holiness,  that  it  can  thirds  of  nothing  else  at  the  time — then 
there  is  more  real  fellowship  with  God  and  the  Lamb,  than 
when  the  soul  can  hardly  contain  its  joys  :  for  this  deep 
hatred  of  sin,  and  this  deep  love  of  holiness,  are  more  in 
harmony  with  the  mind  of  God  than  any  raptures  are.  For 
what  is  fellowshij)  with  God,  but ye//oio  principles  and  feel- 
ings to  his  own  ? 

Sucli  being  the  sober  facts  of  the  case,  it  is  self-evident 
that  whatever  an  inconsistent  professor  enjoys  at  the  sacra- 
ment, or  in  secret  prayer,  it  is  not  fellowship  with  God  and 
the  Lamb.  They  hate  sin.  It  is  "  the  abominable  thing" 
which  their  "  soul  hateth."  Whoever,  therefore,  loves  sin, 
so  as  to  "  walk"  in  it,  is  at  open  variance  with  God,  instead 
of  having  fellowship  with  him  ;  and  at  variance  with  God 
on  a  point  which  God  never  will  yield  nor  alter.  lie  will 
bear  with  weaknesses,  and  overlook  infirmities,  and  even 
forgive,  in  answer  to  prayer,  the  sins  of  those  who  hate  sin, 
and  are  conscientiously  trying  to  follow  holiness  ;  but  with 
the  man  who  loves  sin,  and  lives  in  it,  God  will  hold  no 
fellowship.  "  What  fellowship  hath  Christ  with  Belial?'' 
None.  And  it  is  equally  true  that  Belial  (a  wicked  man) 
hath  none  with  Christ,  whatever  he  may  think  or  pretend." 

These  hints  prove  that  there  are  serious  mistakes  prevail 
upon  this  subject.  Inconsistent  professors  call  that  fel- 
lowship with  God,  which  wants  the  very  first  and  funda- 
mental principle  of  all  communion  with  him.     That  princi- 


ON     FELLOWSHIP     WITH     GOD.  179 

pie  is — love  to  what  God  loves  most — Holiness  ;  and 
hatred  to  vi'hat  God  hates  most — Sin  Where  this  principle 
is  not  in  the  heart,  there  is  not,  there  cannot  be,  any  fel- 
lowship with  God.  There  may  be  fits  of  prayer  without  it, 
and  flashes  of  enjoyment  without  it,  and  occasional  meltings 
of  heart  without  it ;  but  no  fellowship.  It  is  essential,  in 
order  to  that,  that  we  have  some  measure  of  fellow  feeling 
with  God  on  the  point  where  he  feels  most.  Were  this  well 
understood,  and  habitually  remembered,  by  those  who  com- 
bine a  profession  of  religion  with  loved  aud  allowed  sin, 
they  would  soon  become  as  much  afraid  of  what  they  call 
their  "  sweet  seasons"  of  enjoyment,  as  they  are  now  of 
being  detected  in  their  secret  sins.  For,  nothing  is  more 
ominous  or  alarming  than  a  state  of  mind  which  can  set  off 
fits  of  devotion  against  habits  of  sensuality,  intemperance, 
lying,  or  dishonesty.  The  man  who  can  salve  up  the  wounds 
of  his  conscience,  under  such  habits,  is  really  searing  his 
conscience,  with  the  hottest  "  iron"  that  Satan  heats.  "  If 
we  say  that  we  have  fellowship  with  him,  and  walk  in 
darkness,  we  lie." 

"  But  if  we  walk  in  the  light,  as  he  is  in  the  light,  we  have 
mutual  fellowship  with  him.''''  Walking  in  the  light  is  both 
the  rule  and  the  condition  of  communion  with  God.  It  is 
itself  practical  fellowship  with  God,  and  leads  to  that  devo- 
tional fellowship  which  consists  in  the  sensible  enjoyment 
of  the  divine  presence. 

But,  It  may  be  said,  "  walking  in  the  light  as  God  is  in  the 
light,"  seems  to  be  impossible  :  "  God  is  light,  and  in  him 
is  no  darkness  at  all !"  how,  then,  can  any  one  walk  in  the 
light  as  he  is  in  the  light  ?  This  objection  is  not  so  for- 
midable as  it  appears  at  first  sight.  The  apostle's  object  is, 
not  to  demand  perfection,  but  to  establish  a  perfect  rule  of 
conduct.  The  angels  cannot  walk  in  the  light,  to  all  the 
extent  which  God  is  in  the  light ;  but  they  act  upon  his  prin- 
ciples, copy  his  example,  and  cultivate  his  spirit.  They 
adopt  no  lower,  nor  any  other,  standard  of  holiness.  Now, 
although  we  cannot  equal  angels  in  walking  in  the  light, 


ISO  ON     FELLOWSHIP    WITH     COD. 

we  can,  like  thein,  make  God  our  example  ;  and  alihougii 
we  cannot  come  up  to  that  example,  we  can  avoid  coming 
down  to  an  inferior  one.  Perfection  is,  indeed,  impossible 
in  this  world :  but  it  is  not  impossible  to  make  use  of  a 
perfect  model  or  rule  of  conduct.  Let  us,  therefore,  con- 
sider how  God  is  "  in  the  Iigi)l." 

Now,  in  him,  there  is  none  of  the  darkness  o(  insinccriti/. 
God  never  says  one  thing,  and  means  another  ;  never  pro- 
fesses friendship,  when  he  feels  none  ;  never  employs  fraud 
or  fl.ittery  to  gain  his  ends.  All  this,  however,  is  common 
in  the  world  ;  and,  because  it  is  common,  God  puts  himself 
forward  as  the  authoritative  example  of  sincerity  to  all  who 
desire  fellowship  with  him.  He  will  not  allow  u?  to  make 
any  man,  nor  any  angel,  the  standard  of  our  sincerity  ;  but 
insists  upon  it,  that  we  look  to  himself  as  our  model.  Now, 
this  is  not  impossible.  It  is,  in  fact,  the  easiest  of  all  the 
rules  of  spe.iking  or  acting,  to  set  the  Lord  before  us.  The 
moment  we  realize  to  ourselves  his  sincerity,  we  see,  at  a 
glance,  how  he  would  speak  and  act ;  and  thus  see  how  we 
ought  to  conduct  the  business  and  intercourse  of  life.  No 
man  can  be  at  a  loss  what  to  say,  in  any  given  case,  if  he 
is  determined  to  be  sincere  as  God  is  sincere.  This  rule 
would  put  an  end  to  all  shufning,  equivocating,  and  colouring, 
as  well  as  to  all  lying  and  pretence.  This  virtue  o^  godlike 
sincerity  or  integrity  would  also  be  its  own  reward,  even 
if  it  had  no  connexion  with  the  promise  of  the  divine  pres- 
ence. Sterling  and  uniform  uprightness,  in  word  and  deed, 
commands  or  wins  the  homage  of  all  men  ;  and,  what  is 
infinitely  better,  it  secures,  to  a  believer,  joy  and  peace  in 
believing.  The  God  of  truth  marks  his  approbaticm  of  all 
who  walk  in  the  light  of  truth,  by  lifting  upon  them  the  light 
of  his  own  countenance.  lie"  manifests"  himself  to  them, 
in  a  way  that  he  "  does  not"  to  the  insincere  and  the  half- 
honest.  The  fact  is,  God  regulates  his  fellowship  with  his 
professed  friends,  by  the  same  general  principle  on  v/hich 
we  regulate  our  own  fellowsliip  with  our  acquaintances. 
We  avoid,  as  much  as  possihle,  all  intimacy  with  the  double- 


ON     FELLOWSHIP     WITH     GOD.  181 

minded,  and  the  tricky,  and  the  false-tongued.  We  make 
them  feel,  by  our  manner,  that  we  cannot  rely  on  them,  nor 
act  with  them.  They  sit  upon  thorns  whilst  in  our  company. 
And  whatever  be  their  profession  of  religion,  such  persons 
find  a  similar  reception  from  God,  both  at  the  sacrament 
and  in  the  closet.     There,  too,  they  sit  or  kneel  upon  thorns. 

Again  ;  in  God  there  is  none  of  the  darkness  of  pride. 
He  is  majestic,  but  condescending  also.  All  his  dignity  is 
as  amiable  as  it  is  exalted.  He  is  not  a  respecter  of  per- 
sons, nor  ashamed  to  own  the  poorest  sheep  or  lamb  of  the 
good  shepherd's  tlock.  He  readily  and  equally  holds  fel- 
lowship with  all  liis  people  of  equal  character,  however  un- 
equal may  be  their  rank  in  life,  or  their  range  of  talent. 
Now,  it  is  not  impossible  for  believers  to  imitate  God  in  his 
condescension  and  impartiality.  We  may  walk  in  the  light 
of  humility,  as  he  does  in  the  light  of  condescension.  It 
is  necessary  to  do  so,  if  we  would  obtain  fellowship  with 
God  in  our  closets,  or  at  the  sacrament ;  for  He  will  not 
countenance  any  believer  who  is  ashamed  to  own,  as  breth- 
ren, the  poorest  of  the  flock:  but  as  sure  as  he  declines 
fellowship  with  them,  he  loses  fellowship  with  God.  "  The 
first"  in  rank  in  a  church,  is  always  "  the  last"  in  devo- 
tional enjoyment,  whenever  he  is  a  consequential  man. 
God  keeps  just  as  far  off  from  him,  as  he  himself  keeps 
far  off  from  his  brethren.  Such  a  man  is  as  seldom  upon 
the  mount  of  communion,  as  he  is  seldom  in  the  company 
of  the  church.  His  distance,  and  airs,  and  self-importance, 
are  thus  their  owni  punishment.  They  may  not,  indeed, 
draw  down  upon  himself  the  contempt  of  his  brethren  : 
they  may  bear  his  high  hand,  and  brook  his  haughty  spirit ; 
but  God  will  do  neither.  The  proud  are  an  abomination  to 
the  Lord,  and  he  beholdeth  them  afar  off;  and,  although 
he  does  not  always  punish  them  in  their  person  or  proper- 
ty, he  invariably  withdraws  and  withholds  from  them  the 
sense  of  his  gracious  presence.  None  are  so  much  neg- 
lected by  God  as  those  who  neglect  the  people  of  God. 
There  is  no  light  in  the  countenance  of  God  for  the  m^in 

VOL.  I. — 16 


182  ON     FELLOWSHIP     WITH     GOD. 

who  darkens  his  own  countenance  when  he  looks  upon 
"men  of  low  estate"  in  the  church.  But,  on  the  other 
hand,  when  pious  men,  of  rank  or  wealth,  are  humble,  affa- 
ble, and  impartial ;  and  when  they  employ  their  influence  to 
promote  the  welfare  of  the  church,  none  are  more  honoured 
by  God,  cither  at  the  sacrament  or  in  the  closet.  They 
are,  emphatically,  the  men  "  whom  the  King  delighteth  to 
honour." 

Again  :  in  God  there  is  none  of  the  darkness  of  impru- 
dence. He  does  not  speak  rashly,  nor  act  without  delibera- 
tion. He  promises  nothing  but  what  he  can  perform,  and 
engages  in  nothing  which  can  involve  his  character  in  the 
least.  And  hefe,  also,  he  is  the  example  to  them  that  fear 
him.  We  cantiot  indeed  imitate  the  wisdom  of  God  so  as 
to  become  infallible  in  our  judgment,  and  unerring  in  our 
management ;  .hut  we  can  think  before  we  speak  ;  we  can 
deliberate  befoVe  we  decide  ;  we  can  stand  aloof  from  haz- 
ardous and  (piGstionable  undertakings  ;  we  can  avoid  giving 
pledges  which  we  are  not  likely  to  redeem;  we  can  keep 
clear  of  those. habits  which  weaken  the  understanding  and 
pervert  the  conscience.  Oh,  were  all  the  professed  fol- 
lowers of  ChHst  doing  all  that  they  could  do,  in  guiding 
themselves  asd  their  afl^airs  "  with  discretion,"  how  much 
more  fellowship  with  God  many  of  them  might  enjoy ! 
But,  if  a  man  contract  debts  beyond  his  means  of  payment, 
or  launch  out  in  business  upon  mere  credit  without  capital ; 
or  involve  himself  and  his  friends  by  rash  speculation  ;  or 
give  in  to  the  sottish  system  of  transacting  business  at 
taverns  ;  or  so  entangle  himsflf  with  pledges  as  to  be  for 
ever  at  his  "  wit's  end"  for  new  shifts  and  excuses — that 
man  cannot  have  communion  with  God,  either  in  tlie  sanc- 
tuary or  the  closet.  His  closet,  indeed,  will  seldotn  see 
him.  And  if  he  continue  to  visit  the  sanctuary,  and  pre- 
tend to  be  comforted  thrrc,  whilst  persisting  in  this  course, 
his  case  is  ominous  indc'cd  !  Comfort!  There  is  no  com- 
fort in  the  gospel  for  the  dishonest  or  the  drunken,  but  the 
comfort  that  arises  from  the  fact — that  the  blood  of  Christ 


ON      FELLOWSHIP     WITH     GOD.  1S3 

can  cleanse  from  all  sin,  and  grace  teach  them  to  "  live 
soberly  and  honestly"  in  the  world.  Any  comfort  which 
does  not  stop  crime  is  a  curse.  But,  on  the  other  hand, 
the  man  who  brings  both  the  gospel  and  the  law  to  bear 
upon  all  his  aifairs,  to  regulate  his  expenditures,  to  form  his 
promises,  to  moderate  his  desires,  to  bind  his  soul  to  the 
example  of  his  Saviour— that  man  will  not  pray  without 
comfort,  nor  communicate  without  enjoyment.  Others  may 
pretend,  but  he  will  "  truly"  sa}^  my  "  fellowship  is  with 
the  Father,  and  with  his  Son  Jesus  Christ." 

Again  :  in  God  there  is  none  of  the  darkness  of  passion. 
He  is  "  slow  to  anger,"  and  never  angry  without  a  just 
cause.  It  is  not  mistakes  or  trifles  that  he  takes  offence 
at.  And  even  when  He  is  justly  angry,  He  does  not  aban- 
don the  offender  at  once.  Thus  God  is  "in  the  light;" 
and  in  all  this  He  is  our  example.  "  Walking  in  the  light 
as  he  is  in  the  light,"  in  this  respect,  is  essential  to  fellow- 
ship with  him  ;  for  the  God  of  love  will  not  countenance 
an  angry  man.  Such  is  His  aversion  to  all  strife  between 
brethren,  that  He  commands  the  offender  to  leave  the  altar 
and  his  gift  too,  until  he  is  reconciled  to  his  brother.  He 
even  suspends  forgiveness  upon  forgiving.  But  even  if  this 
were  not  the  case,  nor  God  to  hide  his  countenance  from 
the  angry,  anger  itself  would  disable  us  from  seeing  the 
face  of  God.  It  is  physically,  as  well  as  morally,  impos- 
sible to  pray  in  a  passion. 

Well  might  Jeremy  Taylor  say:  "  Prayer  is  the  daughter 
of  charity,  and  the  sister  of  meekness  ;  and  he  that  prays 
to  God  in  an  angry  spirit,  is  like  him  who  retires  into  a  battle 
to  meditate,  and  sets  up  his  closet  in  the  out-quariers  of  an 
enemy,  and  chooses  a  frontier  garrison  to  be  wise  in.  An- 
ger is  a  perfect  alienation  of  the  mind  from  prayer ;  and 
therefore  is  contrary  to  that  attention  which  presents  our 
prayers  in  a  right  line  to  Heaven.  For  so  have  I  seen  a 
lark  rising  from  his  bed  of  grass,  and  soaring  upward, 
singing  as  he  rises,  and  hopes  to  get  to  heaven,  and  climb 
above  the  clouds.     But  the  poor  bird  was  beaten  back  by 


184        A     DEVOTIONAL     SPIRIT     ESSENTIAL     TO 

the  loud  sighings  of  an  eastern  wind,  and  his  motion  made 
irregular  and  inconstant ;  descending  more,  at  every  breath 
of  the  tempest,  than  he  could  recover  by  the  liberation  and 
frequent  weighing  of  his  wings  ;  till  the  little  creature  was 
forced  to  sit  down  and  pant,  and  stay  till  the  storm  was 
over  ;  and  then — it  made  a  prosperous  flight,  and  it  did  rise 
and  sing  as  if  it  had  learned  music  and  motion  from  an 
angel,  as  he  passed  sometimes  through  the  air,  about  his 
ministries  here  below. 

*'  So  is  the  prayer  of  a  good  man,  when  anger  raises  a 
tempest  and  overcomes  him.  Then  his  prayer  was  broken, 
and  his  thoughts  were  troubled,  and  his  words  went  up  to- 
wards a  cloud  ;  and  his  thoughts  pulled  them  back  again, 
and  made  them  without  intention.  And  the  good  man  sighs 
for  his  infirmity  ;  but  must  be  content  to  lose  the  prayer  ; 
and  he  must  recover  it  when  his  anger  is  removed,  and  his 
spirit  is  becalmed,  and  made  even  as  the  brow  of  Jesus,  and 
smooth  like  the  heart  of  God  ;  and  then  it  ascends  to  heav- 
en upon  the  wings  of  the  holy  dove,  and  dwells  with  God, 
till  it  returns  like  the  useful  bee,  laden  with  a  blessing  and 
the  dew  of  heaven." 


No.  VII. 

A     DEVOTIONAL      SPIRIT      ESSENTIAL      TO     THE 
ENJOYMENT     OF     THE     PROMISES. 

Nothing  is  more  obvious  than  that  eternal  things  are 
not  seen  in  their  true  light,  by  the  general! ty  of  mankind. 
Men  could  not  act  as  they  do,  if  they  saw  eternal  realities 
in  the  light  of  revelation.  Accordingly,  whenever  any 
great  truth  shines  out  upon  them  with  unusual  clearness, 
they  change,  or  resolve  to  change,  their  line  of  conduct. 
They  can  neither  act  nor  feel  as  usual,  while  that   truth 


THE     ENJOYMENT     OF     THE     PROMISES.  185 

is  before  them  in  its  brightness  and  solemnity.  It  is  master, 
whilst  it  can  keep  on  the  meridian  of  their  minds.  It  is, 
therefore,  self-evident,  that  if  all  the  great  truths  of  the 
gospel  were  vividly  and  habitually  before  their  minds,  a 
change  of  conduct  and  feeling  would  be  the  inevitable  ef- 
fect. No  man  could  go  on  in  sin  or  sloth,  who  saw,  as  in 
sunlight,  the  fatal  and  eternal  consequences  of  neglecting 
the  great  salvation.  No  man  could  "  halt  between  two 
opinions,"  who  saw  the  two  words.  Heaven  and  Hell,  as 
God  has  exhibited  them  in  his  own  word.  They  are  not 
seen  in  His  "  light,"  by  any  one  who  trifles  with  them.  It 
is  the  light  of  custom — of  convenience — of  passion,  that 
is  upon  eternal  things,  whenever  they  are  unfelt  or  unin- 
fluential.  The  indifference  which  some  manifest,  and  the  in- 
decision which  marks  others,  are  therefore,  the  exact  meas- 
ure of  their  spiritual  blindness.  They  may  not  be  ignorant, 
but  what  they  know  they  have  not  weighed  nor  searched 
out  for  themselves.  Their  knowledge  has  been  forced  up- 
on them  by  circumstances,  or  picked  up  by  accident  and 
at  second-hand.  It  is  not  the  fruit  of  searching  the  Scrip- 
tures, nor  of  serious  consideration,  nor  of  secret  prayer. 
They  have  just  light  enough  to  render  their  indifl^erence 
and  indecision  highly  criminal,  and  utterly  inexcusable  ; 
but  not  light  enough  to  terminate  them,  nor  even  to  keep 
them  from  growing  worse.  For  it  is  quite  possible  for  an 
undecided  man  to  become  insensible,  and  for  a  heedless  man 
to  become  reckless,  whilst  he  only  sees  the  truth  of  God 
in  the  light  of  the  world.  In  that  light  it  has  little 
authority,  and  less  glory.  It  has  not  the  force  of  truth  upon 
the  heart  or  the  character.  Accordingly,  whilst  men  con- 
tent themselves  with  holding  the  truth  in  the  vague  and 
general  forms  in  which  it  is  afloat  in  the  world,  and  merely 
fall  in  with  public  opinion,  instead  of  forming  their  own 
opinions  from  the  word  of  God,  they  may  remain  heedless 
and  heartless,  for  any  length  of  time.  The  word  of  itself 
must  be  used  as  the  word  of  God,  before  it  can  prove  the 
power  of  God  unto  salvation. 

6* 


186  A     DEVOTIONAL     SPIRIT     ESSENTIAL    TO 

It  is,  therefore,  no  wonder  that  so  many,  who  seem  to 
know  so  much  about  the  soul  and  eternity,  should  yet  trifle 
with  both.  For  what  is  there  in  their  knowledge  to  pre- 
vent trifling  ?  It  relates,  indeed,  to  grand  and  solemn 
truths ;  but  not  to  these  truths  as  they  stand  in  the  Bible, 
nor  as  they  flow  from  the  lips  of  Jehovah,  but  as  they  float, 
in  public  opinion.  And  when  thus  separated  from  God 
himself,  and  from  his  "  lively  oracles,"  they  cannot  make 
men  wise  unto  salvation. 

If  these  hints  explain,  in  any  measure,  the  carelessness 
and  indecision  of  the  multitude,  they  will  also  explain  many 
of  the  relapses  of  the  serious.  Truth  has  not  always  the 
force  of  truth  upon  them.  They  revere  it,  and  love  it,  and 
wish  to  remain  under  its  influence.  And  at  times  it  is 
sweeter  to  their  taste  than  honey,  or  the  honeycomb.  But, 
somehow,  they  often  lose  their  relish  for  it.  Even  their 
knowledge,  as  well  as  their  enjoyment,  of  the  glorious  gospel, 
fades  away  insensibly  from  time  to  time.  They  lose  both 
the  sight  and  the  sense  of  truths  which  have  made  their 
hearts  sing  for  joy,  even  in  the  day  of  adversity. 

Now,  all  this  surprises  as  well  as  grieves  them.  They 
cannot  always  account  for  it.  It  seems  so  strange,  as  well 
as  melancholy,  that  truths  which  had  been  often  before  the 
mind  in  light  and  loveliness,  in  power  and  glory,  should 
ever  disappear  or  become  dim  !  If  they  had  not  been  loved 
whilst  they  shone  in  beauty,  or  not  improved  whilst  they 
captivated  the  heart,  their  eclipse  would  explain  itself.  But 
they  have  become  dark  and  distant,  even  when  we  were 
not  conscious  of  misimproving  ihem.  'J'hey  have  vanished 
away,  even  whilst  we  were  fondly  calculating  that  we  could 
never  again  forget,  or  misunderstand  thorn. 

All  this,  however,  is  not  so  strange  as  it  is  lamentable. 
It  arises,  in  many  instances,  from  ceasing  to  "search  the 
Scriptures"  as  we  did,  wliilst  we  were  absorbed  with  the 
question,  "  What  shall  I  do  to  be  saved?"  When  we  can 
answer  this  question  to  our  own  satisfaction,  we  are  prone 
to  relax  in  our  attention  to  the  word  of  God.     Having  dis- 


THE    ENJOYMENT    OP    THE     PROMISES.  187 

covered  our  way  and  welcome  to  the  cross,  we  do  not  feel 
the  same  necessity  for  continuing  our  inquiries.  And  the 
whole  matter  seems  so  plain,  and  so  pleasing,  that  we  take 
for  granted  that  we  can  never  lose  sight  of  it.  Thus  we 
come  to  put  our  clear  views  in  the  room  of  the  Scriptures, 
and  begin  to  draw  upon  them,  instead  of  continuinn-  to  "  draw 
water  from  the  wells  of  salvation."  The  consequence  is, 
^at  our  clearest  views  of  the  gospel  soon  become  indistinct. 
Hence  the  necessity  of  habitual  attention  to  the  word  of 
God,  however  clear  or  copious  our  knowledge  of  it  may  be. 
We  never  can  safely  dispense  with  it,  whatever  be  our  ex- 
perience or  progress  in  the  divine  life.  It  must  be  "  the 
light  of  our  feet,"  until  they  stand  on  the  sea  of  glass  before 
the  throne. 

It  is  not,  however,  a  formal  use  of  the  Scriptures  that  will 
maintain,  in  brightness  and  power,  those  views  of  divine 
truth  which  were  acquired  by  a  devotional  use  of  the  Scrip- 
tures. We  are  blending  much  fervent  prayer  with  our  fre- 
quent reading  of  them,  when  we  first  discovered  the  way  of 
salvation  for  ourselves.  We  pondered  and  prayed  over  the 
word  of  God  at  the  same  time.  Like  David,  we  were  upon 
our  knees  when  we  said,  " /n  thy  light  shall  we  see  light.- 
We  both  recognised  and  realized  the  presence  of  God  with 
his  own  oracles  ;  and  with  something  of  the  solemnity,  and 
much  of  the  sincerity  of  the  high-priest,  when  he  went 
withm  the  veil,  we  opened  our  Bibles,  saying,  "  I  will  hear 
what  God  the  Lord  will  speak."  In  a  word,  our  searching 
the  Scriptures  was  truly  a  devotional  exercise,  when  we 
obtained  the  view  of  the  gospel  which  relieved  our  con- 
sciences, and  calmed  our  spirits. 

This  experimental  fact  demands  and  deserves  the  utmost 
attention.  Remember  !  You  were  not  only  thoughtful  and 
watchful,  but  prayerful  also,  when  the  great  salvation  opened 
upon  your  mind,  in  its  own  native  glory  and  simplicity. 
Whether  the  discovery  was  made  by  you  in  the  sanctuary 
or  in  the  closet,  it  was  intimately  connected  with  prayer. 
And  however  clearly  it  shone  in  the  sanctuary,  it  shone  still 


188  A    DEVOTIONAL    SPIRIT    ESSENTIAL    TO 

clearer  when  you  retired  to  pray  over  it.  You  saw  and  felt 
then,  that  this  "  marvellous  light"  was  both  the  answer  and 
the  effect  of  prayer. 

Such  being  the  real  facts  of  the  case,  it  is  self-evident 
that  any  decline  of  prayerful  attention  to  the  word  of  God 
must  dim  the  clearness,  and  diminish  the  sweetness,  of  all 
those  principles  and  promises  which  you  first  discovered, 
when  in  a  truly  devotional  spirit.  The  decay  of  that  spirit 
must  darken  them.  They  were  first  seen  when  you  were 
living  very  "  near"  to  God  ;  and,  therefore,  all  receding  from 
that  nearness  must  involve  a  proportionate  losing  sight  of 
them.  In  a  word,  whatever  we  saw  and  enjoyed  in  the 
gospel,  whilst  we  were  very  prayerful,  can  only  be  kept  sight 
of,  so  as  to  be  enjoyed,  by  continuing  prayerful. 

This  general  principle  is  of  universal  application.  It 
applies  particularly  to  the  enjoyment  of  that  "  good  hope 
through  grace,"  justification  by  faith  alone.  This  is  a 
truth  which  the  prayerless  cannot  enjoy,  however  well  they 
may  understand  it.  Very  few  of  them  do  understand  it  at 
all,  or  even  notice  it.  As  a  peculiarity  of  the  gospel,  how- 
ever, it  is  understood  by  some  of  the  prayerless.  They  can 
argue  about  it,  and  prove  it  from  Scripture,  and  point  out 
the  preachers  and  writers  who  garble  or  encumber  the  doc- 
trine.* Some  of  this  class  have  neither  mercy  nor  patience 
for  any  m8wT(*who  seems  to  see  less  clearly  than  themselves, 
that  believing  is  faith,  and  that  faith  justifies  the  soul.  They 
can  demonstrate  all  this — to  his  confusion,  and  to  his  con- 
demnation too  !  To  hear  them  declaiming  and  denouncing 
thus,  one  would  imagine  that  they  enjoyed  the  doctrine,  as 
much  as  they  understood  it.  This,  however,  is  not  the  case. 
Accordingly,  the  moment  they  are  brought  to  the  point  by 
the  pointed  question — "  Are  you  justified  by  your  belief  of 
the  truth  V — they  dare  not  say  that  they  are.  The  con- 
sciousness of  being  prayerless,  and  averse  to  secret  prayer, 
shuts  their  lips  at  once.  They  may  continue  to  argue  the 
general  principle,  and  even  go  on  to  show  that  its  truth  is 
in  nowise  affected  by  their  uncertainty;  but  beyond  this 


THE     ENJOYMENT     OF    THE    PROMISES.  189 

they  cannot  proceed.  They  see  clearly  that  believers  are 
justified  by  believing  ;  but  they  see  as  clearly,  thatil  is  not 
safe  to  reckon  their  own  prayerless  belief,  faith. 

Now,  what  the  prayerless  cannot  enjoy,  the  serious  dare 
not  enjoy  when  they  cease  to  be  prayerful.  The  conclu- 
sion, "  i  believe  on  the  Saviour,  and  therefore  am  justified 
for  his  sake,"  cannot  be  drawn  so  as  to  be  satisfactory  to 
the  mind,  when  the  heart  is  not  right  with  God  in  the  closet. 
It  may,  indeed,  be  drawn,  as  a  logical  syllogism  ;  but  it  will 
only  have  the  effect  of  dry  logic.  It  will  not  heal  the 
wounds,  nor  hush  the  fears  of  the  conscience,  whilst  con- 
science must  confess  to  itself,  that  secret  devotion  is  neg- 
lected or  hurried  over.  Indeed,  in  such  a  slate  of  mind, 
justification  by  faith  alone  will  appear  at  times,  a  doubtful 
doctrine,  or  faith  will  be  supposed  to  mean  much  more  than 
the  cordial  belief  of  the  gospel ;  and  thus  the  man  to  whom 
the  whole  matter  was  equally  plain,  pleasing,  and  valid, 
whilst  he  was  devotional  in  his  spirit  and  habits,  may  come 
to  doubt  and  distrust  the  whole  matter ;  or  at  least  to  be  un- 
able to  derive  any  comfort  from  it.  For  when  the  heart  is 
estranged  from  God,  or  sunk  into  cold  formality  in  prayer, 
salvation  by  faith  will  appear  just  as  difficult  as  salvation  by 
works. 

These  difiiculties  are,  I  am  aware,  felt  at  times  by  many 
of  the  prayerful.  But  in  general  those  who  ie^l  t'-:em  most 
have  never  clearly  understood  the  doctrine  of  justification 
by  faith,  nor  perceived  that  prayer  is  the  best  expression  of 
faith.  They  have  either  heard  a  misty  gospel,  or  misunder- 
stood the  preacher,  and  thus  have  always  been  at  a  loss  on 
the  subject.  But  their  difficulties  would  be  removed  at  once 
if  the  matter  were  fully  explained  to  them  ;  because,  to  their 
devotional  spirit,  it  would  commend  itself  as  the  truth  of 
God.  Whereas,  in  the  case  of  those  who  once  understood 
and  enjoyed  the  doctrine,  but  have  lost  the  spirit  of  prayer, 
no  explanation  of  it  will  remove  their  difficulties,  unless,  at 
the  same  time,  it  restore  that  spirit.  The  sober  fact  is,  that 
the  loss  of  a  devotional  spirits  operates,  in  reference  to  the 


190  A    DEVOTIONAL    SPIRIT     ESSENTIAL    TO 

gospel,  just  as  the  loss  of  a  mental  faculty  does  in  reference 
to  the  affairs  of  life.  Whilst  the  alienation  lasts,  the  judg- 
ments of  the  mind  are  not  sound  nor  consistent ;  things  do 
not  appear  in  their  true  light,  or  are  not  applied  to  their  right 
purpose.  In  the  same  way,  therefore,  that  a  sane  mind  is 
essential  for  the  wise  management  of  human  affairs,  so  is  a 
devotional  spirit  to  the  enjoyment  of  divine  truth.  Indeed, 
a  dislike  of  prayer  is  a  species  of  moral  insanity.  He  is 
not  "  in  his  right  mind"  towards  God  or  towards  himself, 
who  has  not  begun  to  pray ;  nor  is  he  who  has  ceased  to 
pray  fervently.  Accordingly,  the  first  thing  which  the 
Spirit  of  God  does,  both  in  converting  a  sinner,  and  resto- 
ring a  backslider,  is  to  bring  them  to  their  knees  in  secret, 
to  seek  God  with  all  their  heart. 

The  general  principle  of  these  hints  is  equally  applicable 
to  the  enjoyment  of  the  spirit  of  adoption.  The  witness  of 
the  Holy  Spirit  with  our  spirit,  that  we  are  the  children  of 
God,  will  not  survive  the  death  of  prayer.  The  spirit  of 
adoption  is  essentially  and  invariably  devotional.  It  ^^  cries 
— Abba,  Father." 

Accordingly  when  this  filial  cry  ceases  in  the  closet,  the 
sense  of  sonship  is  soon  gone  from  the  heart.  No  wonder? 
For  if  it  be  often  difhcult,  and  sometimes  almost  impossible, 
even  when  we  are  most  prayerful,  to  cherish  the  hope  that 
we  are  the  children  of  God,  it  must  be  felt  to  be  sheer  pre- 
sumption to  do  so,  when  the  heart  is  estranged  from  prayer. 

I  do  not  mean,  of  course,  that  sonship  is  disannulled  or 
disproved  by  a  decay  of  devotional  feeling  and  habits  :  but 
1  do  not  mean — that  such  a  decay  is,  whilst  it  lasts,  fatal 
to  the  conscious  enjoyment  of  sonship.  The  logic  of  the 
doctrine  will  not  keep  up  the  hope  of  the  fact.  It  is  per- 
fectly true  that  whoever  is  a  believer,  is  fully  warranted  to 
consider  himself  a  child  of  God  :  and  it  is  equally  true, 
that  relapses  in  devotion  do  not  prove  a  man  to  be  an  abso- 
lute unbeliever :  but  neither  fact  will  meet  our  case  whilst 
we  are  iindevotional :  because,  in  that  state  we  are  not  be- 
lieving with  the  heart.     Faith  is  not  dead  when  the  spirit 


THE     ENJOYMENT     OF     THE     PROMISES.  191 

of  prayer  is  lost :  but  it  is  in  such  a  faint,  when  it  ceases 
to  breathe  prayer,  that  neither  reason  nor  conscience  dare 
venture  to  argue,  from  its  bare  existence,  that  we  are  "  the 
sons  and  daughters  of  the  Lord  God  Almighty."  We  may 
not,  indeed,  give  up  all  hope  of  sonship,  even  when  things 
are  at  this  low  ebb  in  our  closet.  The  mind  will  look,  and 
the  heart  will  linger  over  the  fact,  that  it  is  "  by  faith,"  son- 
ship  is  obtained.  And  we  may  also  cling  to  the  weak  vesti- 
ges of  our  former  believing,  as  evidences  of  having  "  the 
root  of  the  matter'*  within  us  still.  And  we  may  try  to 
draw  the  conclusion,  that  all  is  safe  although  much  be  far 
wrong.  But  this  will  not  do!  It  does  not  satisfy  the  heart, 
however  it  may  blunt  the  stings  of  conscience.  Our  com- 
mon sense  frowns  upon  the  paltry  stratagem  of  proving  our 
safety  by  a  logical  quibble,  whilst  the  great  body  of  our 
feelings  are  in  a  bad  state  !  The  sad  diflerence  between 
these  desperate  graspings  at  i7idirect  means  of  comfort,  and 
our  former  calm  hold  of  the  cross,  whilst  we  were  prayer- 
ful, alarms  and  shames  us.  We  had  then  no  temptation,  be- 
cause no  occasion,  to  have  recourse  to  a  reckless  logic,  which 
tries  to  circumvent  or  evade  God,  by  holding  him  to  the  let- 
ter of  some  promise,  the  spirit  and  design  of  which  we 
disregard.  Oh,  nothing  is  so  pitiable  an  expedient  as  this! 
It  is  contemptible  and  impious,  when  the  heart  is  estranged 
from  God,  and  averse  to  prayer,  to  clutch  at,  and  cling  to, 
some  subterfuge  which,  like  a  flaw  in  an  indictment,  is  a 
mereevasion.  And  yet  this  is,  alas  I  the  use  which  many  make 
of  some  of  the  doctrines  of  grace.  But  how  much  better 
and  easier  is  it  to  set  the  whole  matter  right,  by  a  prompt 
and  penitential  return  to  the  throne  of  grace  !  Half  the 
thought  usually  spent  in  juggling  the  conscience  would  suf- 
fice to  bring  and  bind  it  over  to  its  old  habits  of  watchful- 
ness and  prayer.  And  these  will  maintain  the  spirit  of 
adoption  wherever  the  doctrine  of  adoption  is  understood. 
The  substance  of  that  doctrine  is,  that  whoever  has  wel- 
comed the  Saviour  to  his  heart  for  holy  purposes,  is  both 
warranted  and  welcome  to  reckon  himself  a  child  of  God. 


192  ENJOYMENT     OF    THE     PROMISES. 

It  is  his  duty  as  well  as  his  privilege,  to  believe  his  own 
fionship.  And  the  witness  of  the  Holy  Spirit  with  his  spir- 
it, that  he  is  born  of  God,  is,  amongst  other  things,  a  wit- 
ness to  the  truth  of  this  revealed  fact. 

The  general  principle  of  these  hints  applies  equally  to 
the  enjoyment  of  the  doctrine  of  the  final  perseverance 
of  believers.  Now,  that  men  concerned  about  the  eternal 
salvation  of  their  souls,  should  cling  with  a  tenacious  grasp 
to  a  doctrine  which  makes  salvation  sure,  is  only  what 
might  be  expected.  There  is  so  much  treachery  in  the 
heart,  so  many  snares  in  the  world,  and  such  depths  and 
wiles  in  the  temptations  of  Satan,  that  I  cannot,  for  my  own 
part,  understand  the  conduct  of  those  who  deny  the  doctrine 
of  final  perseverance.  Many  of  them  are  too  holy  and  too 
humble  to  thirdc  seriously  that  they  can  "  endure  to  the  end" 
by  their  own  strength.  They  manifest  in  tlioir  prayers 
that  they  feel  themselves  dependant  upon  Him  who  '•  began 
the  good  work,"  for  the  on-carrying  of  it  from  day  to  day. 
And  if  they  do,  indeed,  calculate,  with  any  certainty,  on 
being  kept  hy  the  day  from  falling,  they  might  just  as  well 
calculate  by  the  year  or  for  life :  for  they  are  only  subdi- 
viding the  promise  in  appearance,  without  subverting  the 
principle  in  reality.  But  whether  for  the  day,  the  year,  or 
for  life,  the  calculation,  if  made  to  any  purpose,  must  be 
made  in  a  devotional  spirit.  As  in  the  former  cases  the 
dry  logic  of  the  doctrine  will  not  maintain  the  hope  of  the 
promise.  It  cannot  do  so  in  any  sober  minJ :  for  the 
promise  is,  that  He  who  began  the  good  work  will  carry  it 
on  : — of  course,  therefore,  carry  it  on  in  its  goodness.  It  is 
not,  therefore,  that  work  which  is  going  on,  when  a  devo- 
tional spirit  is  going  olf. 


PREPARATION  FOR  THE  SANCTUARY.       193 

No.  VIII. 

DEVOTIONAL  PREPARATION  FOR  THE  SANCTUARY. 

If  the  house  of  God  be.  indeed,  "  the  gate  of  heaven,''  it 
demands  and  deserves  from  us  far  more  than  regular,  or 
even  reverential,  attendance.  We  ought  to  prepare  for  it, 
as  well  as  to  repair  to  it.  We  ought  to  be  "  in  the  Spirit," 
as  well  as  in  our  place,  on  the  Lord's  day ;  for  the  house 
of  God  is  the  gate  of  heaven,  only  to  the  "  spiritually  mind- 
ed." It  is  not  such  a  gate  of  heaven  as  that  which  John 
saw  in  Patmos — so  wide  and  so  open  that  he  had  only  to 
look,  in  order  to  behold  the  throne  of  God  and  the  man- 
sions of  glory.  Lt  is  jather  such  a  gate  as  the  types  were 
to  the  Saviour  before  his  coming,  or  as  the  prophecies  are 
to  futurity  ;  solemn,  but  shadowy  ;  direct,  but  dim  :  so  that 
if  our  minds  be  not  spiritual  when  we  enter  it,  we  shall  see 
but  little,  and  enjoy  less,  of  the  heaven  to  which  it  leads. 

Accordingly,  we  have  found,  when  we  have  come  into 
the  house  of  God  altogether  unprepared,  that  it  was  any 
thinjj  but  the  gate  of  heaven  to  our  souls.  It  has  been  the 
gate  of  sleep  or  the  gate  of  weariness  to  us  when  we  have 
entered  it  prayerless  ;  and  we  have  felt  it  to  be  almost  the 
gate  of  hell  when  all  its  ordinances  poured  fire  into  our  con- 
sciences, and  fear  into  our  hearts.  And  this  they  have 
done,  when  our  utter  want  of  relish  for  them  has  forced 
upon  us  the  awful  suspicion  that  we  were  surely  hardening 
under  the  gospel. 

These  are  melancholy  and  humiliating  confessions. 
They  ought,  however,  to  be  thus  publicly  made,  that  we 
may  be  shamed  out  of  those  habits  which  bring  on  such 
states  of  mind;  and  that  we  may  see  and  feel  the  necessity 
of  due  preparation  for  the  house  of  God.  For  it  may  be  to 
us  the  gate  of  heaven  if  we  come  to  it  in  a  right  spirit  and 
with  proper  motives.  Now  we  have  much  need  that  it 
should  be  so  to  us.     For  if    the  house  of  God  do  not  fix 

VOL.  I. — 17 


194  DEVOTION  AL    PREPARAnON 

our  minds  on  eternal  things,  no  other  house  is  likely  to 
bring  us  under  the  powers  of  the  world  to  come.  The  house 
of  mourning,  by  its  gloom  and  by  its  silence,  renders  us  sol- 
emn and  thoughtful  whilst  we  are  in  it ;  but  its  deep  influ- 
ence is  not  lasting :  it  lessens  every  day  after  the  funeral, 
and  soon  subsides  entirely.  And  in  the  world,  although 
there  are  events  for  ever  occurring  which  ought  to  burn 
in  upon  our  souls  the  conviction  that  "  this  is  not  our 
rest" — this,  alas,  is  not  the  lesson  we  learn  from  them! 
This  world,  with  all  its  cares  and  crosses,  does  not,  by  its 
own  influence,  throw  our  thoughts  direct  or  often  upon  the 
world  to  come.  Even  when  we  ourselves  are  the  sufferers, 
such  is  the  tendency  of  our  minds,  that  we  are  inclined  to 
turn  our  trials  into  excuses  for  the  neglect  of  the  great  sal- 
vation ; — so  that  unless  the  house  of  God  furnish  an  antidote 
to  these  plagues  of  our  hearts,  they  arc  sure  to  ruin  us.  We 
are,  therefore,  deeply  interested  and  obligated  to  form  and 
maintain  such  devotional  habits  of  preparation  for  the  sanc- 
tuary, that  its  "  waters"  may  be  for  us,  from  sabbath  to  sab- 
bath, cleansing,  healing,  and  refreshing.  David  felt  the  ne- 
cessity of  this,  and  never  trusted  his  principles  of  love  or 
relish  for  Zion  to  their  own  vitality  or  unaided  influence  ; 
but  prayed  habitually,  "O  send  out  thy  light  and  thy  truth  ; 
let  them  lead  me,  let  them  bring  me  unto  thy  holy  hill  and  to 
thy  Tabernacles.  Then  vnll  I  go  unto  the  altar  of  God,  *un- 
to  God  my  exceeding  joyP  It  was  thus  that  David  found 
the  house  of  God  to  be  the  gate  of  heaven  to  his  soul. 

Whenever  the  benefits  of  the  sanctuary  are  thus  strongly 
stated,  and  preparation  for  it  thus  solemnly  enforced,  you 
naturally,  and  not  improperly,  advert  in  your  own  minds  to 
the  character  and  preaching  of  the  minister  of  that  sanctu- 
ary which  you  attend.  And  you  ought  to  "take  heed"  who 
you  hear,  and  what  you  hear,  as  well  as  "  how  you  hear." 
It  is  as  much  your  duty  to  quit  a  minister  who  is  not  a  man 
of  God,  and  to  shun  a  ministry  which  shuns  to  declare  the 
whole  counsel  of  God,  as  it  is  to  attend  the  house  of  God. 
Your  love  to  Zion  is  but  lukewarm  if  you  countenance  a  bad 


FOR    THE    SANCTUARY.  195 

man  or  false  doctrine  in  Zion.  Hearers  have  it,  however, 
in  their  power  to  make  both  a  good  man  and  good  preach- 
ing much  better.  For  if  both  are  worthy  of  esteem,  even 
whilst  his  people  are  not  very  prayerful,  or  whilst  only  a 
few  of  them  are  so,  what  would  his  spirits  or  sermons  be, 
were  he  sure  that  the  great  body  of  his  charge  came  from 
their  closets  to  the  Sanctuary  ? 

You  have  perhaps  said,  when  you  heard  of  the  preaching 
of  Whitfield,  Romaine,  and  Spencer,  why  do  not  our  min- 
isters preach  with  their  unction  and  energy  ?  One  reason 
is  that  far  fewer  pray  for  us  than  the  number  who  prayed 
for  them.  Whitfield  was  borne  up  and  borne  through  by 
the  high  and  sweet  consciousness,  that  underneath  him  were 
the  wings  of  the  secret  and  family  prayers  of  thousands. 
He  had  Aarons  and  Hurs  to  hold  up  his  hands  upon  every 
mount  to  Amalek',  where  he  unfurled  the  standard  of  the 
cross.  Under  such  circumstances  he  could  not,  and  no 
good  man  could,  be  cold  or  tame  in  his  preaching. 

It  may  be  said  in  answer  to  this,  "  that  Whitfield,  by  his 
©wn  devotional  spirit  and  example,  created  the  prayerful- 
ness  which  thus  inspired  and  sustained  him."  And  to  a  great 
extent  this  is  true.  But  "prayer  was  made  for  him,"  not 
only  by  his  own  converts,  but  by  all  who  loved  and  longed 
for  the  conversion  of  souls.  He  knevjplhis — and  "  watched 
for  souls,"  as  one  who  must  give  account. 

Now  something,  yea  much,  of  this,  you  may  promote  by 
a  prayerful  regard  to  your  own  profiting  ;  for  if  you  consult 
your  own  spiritual  benefit,  your  minister  is  sure  to  be  bene- 
fited. A  praying  people  will  make  a  preaching  minister, 
as  much  by  their  prayers  for  themselves  as  by  what  they  offer 
for  him.  And  in  this  obvious  way ;  while  the  conscious- 
ness that  he  has  not  forgotten  at  the  mercy-seat,  will  sooth 
his  spirit,  that  consciousness  that  you  have  been  alone  with 
God,  and  are  come  from  communing  with  God  and  the 
Lamb,  will  rouse  his  spirit  to  meet  your  spirit,  so  as  to  min- 
gle with  it  in  all  its  holy  aspirations.  He  will  feel,  through 
all  his  soul,  that  a  devotional  people  cannot  be  edified  by 


196  DEVOTIONAL   PREPARATION 

an  undevotional  minister — that  a  sermon  unbaptized  by 
prayer  will  betray  itself  and  him  too,  amongst  the  prayer- 
ful ;  and  that  no  dexterity  in  speaking  will  mask  heartless- 
ness  in  thinking.  Thus  he  will  have,  in  your  devotional 
character,  a  check  upon  his  own ;  and  his  own,  thus  kept 
on  the  alert,  will  react  upon  yours,  in  a  similar  way. 

Besides,  if  your  errand  to  the  house  of  God,  be  a  spiritu- 
al one,  you  cannot  expect  to  succeed  v/ithout  trying,  at  least, 
to  be  "  in  the  spirit  on  the  Lord's  day"  before  you  go  out. 
It  should  not  depend  upon  the  morning  prayer,  or  the  morn- 
ing sermon,  of  the  minister,  whether  you  shall  be  in  good 
or  bad  frame  of  mind  during  the  Sabbath.  They  may,  in- 
deed, have  occasionally  broken  up  a  bad  frame  of  mind,  and 
been,  unexpectedly,  the  means  of  restoring  your  soul  from 
its  wanderings  ;  but,  whenever  they  have  been  instrument- 
al in  this  way,  you  have  been  made  to  feel  deeply,  at  the 
time,  that  such  sovereign  lifts  were  fraught  with  reproof,  as 
well  as  with  revival.  You  never  were  unexpectedly  quick- 
ened in  the  Sanctuary,  without  being  cut  to  the  heart,  by 
the  consciousness  that  you  might  have  been  restored  soon- 
er, if  you  had  not  restrained  prayer  before  God.  Accord- 
ingly, your  first  resolution,  when  thus  brought  again  to  your 
"  right  mind"  was,  that  you  would  not  let  things  go  wrong 
again  between  you  and  God,  by  coming  prayerless  or  heart- 
less to  the  house  of  God.  I  remind  you  of  this  fact  that 
you  may  feel  that  you  have  no  reason  to  expect  to  see  his 
glory  in  the  sanctuary,  unless  you  have  prayed  at  home,  "/ 
heseech  thee,  show  me  thy  glory ^  Whatever  is  woxih -finding 
in  his  house,  is  worth  seeking  in  your  own  closet.  It  is, 
therefore,  presumption,  if  not  high  insult,  to  expect  the  di- 
vine presence  or  blessing  in  Zion,  if  you  neglect  to  pray 
for  them  before  we  come  to  Zion.  If  we  would  feed  upon 
its  "green  pastures,"  or  be  refreshed  by  its  "still  waters," 
we  must,  like  David,  pray,  "O  send  out  thy  light  and  thy 
truth :  let  them  lead  me,  let  them  guide  me  to  thy  holy  hilly 

It  is  much  easier  to  enforce  this  rule  than  to  endear  it. 
It  may,  however,  be  commended,  as  well  as  commanded : 


FOR   THE    SANCTUARY.  197 

for  your  own  comfort  is  inseparably  connected  with  its  ob- 
servance. Now  you  know,  by  experience,  that  it  is  a 
wretched  post  to  sit  in  the  house  of  God  listening  to  prom- 
ises, which  you  cannot  lay  hold  on  for  yourselves  ;  look- 
ing at  prospects  of  heaven,  which  you  dare  not  realize  ; 
hearing  of  sweet  feelings,  which  you  have  lost !  Nothing 
is  more  painful  than  to  see  the  wells  of  salvation  overflow- 
ing with  the  waters  of  life,  and  feel  averse  or  unable  to 
drink.  The  fabled  cup  of  Tantalus  is  nothing  to  this,  when 
the  soul  feels,  at  the  same  time,  its  own  value,  and  cannot 
forget  the  solemnities  of  eternity.  Well,  whatever  there  be 
in  all  this  that  is  humiliating  or  painful,  commends,  as  well 
as  enforces,  thoughtful  and  prayerful  preparation  for  the 
sanctuary.  For  you  do  not,  you  cannot,  wish  to  spend  sab- 
bath after  sabbath,  thus  cold  and  comfortless.  Only  think 
of  a  year  of  such  sabbaths  !  No  communion  with  God — no 
witness  of  the  spirit — no  foretastes  of  heaven — no  growth 
in  grace — no  peace  of  conscience — no  holy  liberty  of  soul 
in  prayer  or  praise  !  Can  you  bear  the  idea  of  this  ?  If  not, 
what  is  to  prevent  the  reality,  if  sloth  or  sleep  be  allowed  to 
waste  the  sabbath  morning  ?  For,  be  assured,  God  will  not 
humour  our  indolence  by  comforting  us  under  it.  The  arm 
of  the  Lord  will  not  "  awake"  to  uphold  or  protect  us,  if  we 
sleep,  when  we  ought  to  be  up  and  calling  on  it  to  awake 
for  our  help.  We  have  found,  by  experience,  that  this  is 
only  too  true. 

Happily,  however,  this  is  not  the  whole  of  our  experience. 
We  have  found  too,  at  times,  that  the  "  glorious  things" 
spoken  of  Zion  are  true.  "  As  we  have  heard^  so  we  have 
seen,  in  the  city  of  God.^^  The  house  of  God  has  been,  in- 
deed, the  very  gate  of  heaven  to  us.  It  was  so  when  the 
great  salvation  first  opened  unto  us  in  its  greatness — when 
the  glories  of  the  cross  first  awoke  our  wonder — when  we 
first  saw  our  own  way  and  welcome  to  the  refuge  set  before 
us  in  the  gospel — when  we  felt  the  first  rising  of  a  hope 
full  of  immortality,  and,  with  adoring  but  speechless  grati- 
tude, wept  out  the  weighty  sentiment,  "  why  me — why  me, 


198  DEVOTIONAL     PREPARATION 

Lord !"  The  Sabbath  was  not  a  weariness  then,  nor  the 
ordinances  of  the  sanctuary  tedious.  We  feit  as  if  we 
could  have  taken  an  eternity  of  these  hallowed  hours  and 
emotions. 

I  appeal  to  you  for  the  truth  of  this  statement.  I  must 
do  more  ; — Was  your  business  or  your  family  neglected  or 
injured  at  all,  whilst  your  soul  was  thus  absorbed  with  the 
glories  of  salvation  ?  Had  your  wife,  your  children,  your 
tradesmen,  your  servants,  reason  to  complain  of  your  con- 
duct or  spirit,  whilst  you  were  thus  happy  in  religion  t  0, 
no  ! — this  good  hope  through  grace  exalted  all  that  was 
good  in  your  character  and  temper,  and  brought  under  strong 
restraints  all  that  was  bad  in  both.  Yes  ;  and  whatever  re- 
lapse there  has  been  in  either  since,  has  risen,  in  no  small 
degree,  from  the  decay  of  that  good  hope.  "  For  whosoever 
hath  this  hope  in  Christ,  purifieth  himself  even  as  he  is  pure," 
whilst  it  is  devotionally  maintained. 

It  may  be,  however,  that  you  suspect  it  to  be  impossible 
to  maintain  a  settled  hope  of  salvation.  You  may  have 
found  it  decline  and  shake,  even  whilst  your  general  char- 
acter remained  firm  ;  and  thus  you  have  been  led  to  think 
that,  do  what  you  would,  you  cannot  keep  it  up.  Now,  on 
the  supposition  that  there  is  much  truth  in  all  this,  see  what 
it  proves,  viz.: — that  if  the  ordinances  and  the  fellowship, 
the  checks  and  charms  of  the  house  of  God,  lose  their  in- 
fluence over  you,  you  may  be  a  lost  man  in  the  hour  of  trial 
and  temptation !  For  if  you  have  not  hope  enough  to  for- 
tify you  against  them,  you,  of  all  men,  need  most  to  improve 
divine  ordinances,  that  their  sweet  influence  may  aid  your 
feeble  hopes.  It  is,  therefore,  at  your  peril,  during  all  the 
week,  if  you  come  to  the  sanctuary  hurried  or  heartless. 
For  unless  you  are  awed  or  encouraged  by  eternal  things 
on  the  Sabbath,  and  kept  alive  to  the  worth  of  your  soul  and 
the  evil  of  sin,  and  kept  under  a  deep  sense  of  the  divine 
presence  and  authority,  and  hold  up  by  the  counsel  and  ex- 
ample of  your  l)rethren,  you  cannot  "  stand  in  the  evil  day." 
And  as  the  bare  idea  of  apostatizing,  or  falling,  shocks  you, 


FOR     THE     SANCTUARY.  199 

O  risk  not  the  dread  reality  by  coming  prayerless  to  the 
house  of  God.  Thoughtful  and  prayerful  preparation  for 
the  sanctuary  is,  however,  not  less  necessary  in  the  case  of 
those  who  enjoy  some  settled  hope  of  eternal  life.  A  good 
hope  through  grace  can  only  be  well  maintained  by  acquiring 
"  more  grace."  This  it  wanted  in  order  to  keep  before  you 
the  grounds  of  hope,  in  their  strength  and  glory.  Any  one 
can  talk  of  Christ  being  the  sole  and  sure  foundation  of  all 
warrantable  hope.  Any  one  can  argue  that  the  love  and 
mercy  of  the  divine  character  warrant  m.uch  hope.  But — - 
to  see  this  clearly,  to  feel  it  powerfully,  to  realize  it  for  our- 
selves, so  vividly  as  to  enjoy  it,  is  not  an  easy  attainment, 
nor,  when  attained,  easily  kept  up.  In  fact,  these  realizing 
views  of  the  glorious  gospel  fade  and  vanish  away,  when- 
ever the  spirit  of  devotion  is  allowed  to  decline.  And  they 
are  both  dim  and  indistinct  on  all  the  Sabbath  mornings 
when  you  have  no  heart  for  secret  prayer.  Their  distance 
from  you  is  always  the  measure  of  your  distance  from  God. 
Your  hopes  are  just  as  firm  as  the  cherubim  upon  the  mercy- 
seat,  in  proportion  as  you  act  as  a  priest  before  it.  Or,  if 
they  do  stand,  after  the  spirit  of  prayer  is  fallen,  they  stand, 
only  as  the  cherubim  when  the  glory  departed — cold  and 
naked.  Thus  it  is,  that  the  want  of  a  good  conscience  to- 
wards God  or  man,  OA^erthrows  or  overcasts  a  good  hope 
through  grace.  And  no  sermon  which  does  not  set  the 
conscience  right,  can  set  up,  or  clear  up,  that  hope  again. 
Accordingly,  you  have  found,  when  you  have  come  prayer- 
less  to  the  sanctuary,  or  without  such  praying  as  will  bear 
to  be  thought  of,  the  best  sermons  have  failed  to  comfort 
you.  You  durst  not  take  comfort  from  them,  owing  to  the 
cutting  recollection,  that  your  heart  was  far  from  God,  or 
not  right  with  God  at  home.  Whereas,  when  you  have 
prayed  so  that  your  sincerity  and  solicitude  were  beyond  a 
doubt ;  so  that  you  could  appeal  to  the  Searcher  of  hearts 
as  the  witness  of  your  spiritual  desires  ;  and  so  that  it  was 
not  unlikely  that  he  would  meet  with  you,  and  manifest 
himself  to  your  soul  in  his  house — you  have  then  found  that 


200  DEVOTIONAL     PREPARATION 

you  could  "  take  the  cup  of  salvation,"  and  drink  abundantly, 
without  fear  or  overwhelming  shame. 

Oh,  why  should  it  not  be  always  thus  with  you?  It 
might  be  so.  God  is  not  unwilling  that  you  should  be 
"joyful  in  the  house  of  prayer."  He  has  not  made  it  a 
difficult  thing  to  rejoice  before  him  in  Zion.  There  is  pro- 
vision enough,  in  the  unsearchable  riches  of  Christ  to  make 
his  peoj)le  "  shout  aloud  for  joy."  And  all  that  is  wanting 
in  order  to  bring  or  keep  their  harps  from  the  "  willows,"  is 
holding  faith  and  a  good  conscience,  by  frequent  and  fervent 
prayer  for  the  work  and  witness  of  the  Spirit. 

Happiness  in  the  sanctuary  is  not,  however,  the  only 
thing  which  we  need.  As  parents,  we  need  grace  to  help 
us  to  train  up  our  children  in  the  nurture  and  admonition  of 
the  Lord.  And  we  feel  that,  if  we  were  to  forsake  the 
house  of  God,  we  not  only  could  not  expect  him  to  bless 
our  families,  but  that  our  example  might  ruin  them.  So  far 
we  judge  aright.  But  we  ought  also  to  be  intent  upon 
deriving  such  benefit  from  divine  ordinances,  that  our  pa- 
rental character  may  improve  every  Sabbath  in  worth  and 
weiffht.  We  oujiht  never  to  visit  the  house  of  God,  vvith- 
out  looking  at  our  children  in  the  light  both  of  time  and 
eternity,  and  praying  that  the  means  of  grace  may  revive 
and  increase  our  love  to  their  souls.  We,  in  fact,  forget 
one  grand  part  of  our  errand  to  the  gates  of  Zion,  if  we  do 
not  seek  expressly  and  importunately  to  be  fitted  for  the 
duties  of  home,  as  well  as  of  public  life.  Every  Sabbath 
ought  to  make  us,  and  might  make  us,  better  fathers  and 
mothers.  For  it  is  not  necessary,  in  order  to  be  so,  that 
parental  duties  should  be  often  brought  before  us.  Any 
subject,  and  every  subject,  which  brings  eternal  things  to 
bear  upon  our  hearts  and  consciences,  will  improve  and 
confirm  our  parental  character. 

Whatever  truth  there  is  in  these  views  of  the  nature  and 
necessity  of  devout  preparation  for  public  worship,  is  of 
supreme  importance  to  all  who  have  much  to  do  or  suffer  in 
the  world.     If  your  .Sabbaths   are  not  made  the  most  of, 


FOR     THE    SANCTUARY.  201 

by  being  well  prepared  for  and  well  spent,  it  must  go  very 
ill  with  your  souls  during  the  week.  The  bustle  and  cares 
of  life,  as  you  well  know,  have  a  desolating  and  hardening 
influence  upon  the  heart.  They  sometimes  almost  upset 
the  form  of  godliness,  as  well  as  deaden  the  power  of  it ; 
and  thus  throw  the  mind  into  a  state  of  such  hurry,  and 
confusion,  and  restlessness,  and  impatience,  that  it  can  hard- 
ly detach  itself  from  its  business  and  embarrassments. 
These  even  follow  you  to  the  house  of  God,  and  force  them- 
selves into  your  closet,  and  up  to  the  sacramental  table,  at 
times.  Now,  if  this  haunting  and  harassing  influence  of 
the  world  should  go  farther,  and  get  a  firmer  hold  upon  you, 
it  may  end  fatally.  It  has  placed  you  already  upon  what 
you  feel  to  be  the  brink  of  a  precipice  which  makes  you 
almost  totter.  The  same  influence,  when  given  way  to, 
has  drowned  many  in  perdition,  or  pierced  them  through 
with  many  sorrows.  Now  if  you  would  stand,  you  must 
"take  heed  lest  you  fall."  But  it  is  not  taking  sufficient 
"  heed,"  merely  to  maintain  your  attendance  upon  the  sanc- 
tuary. That  is,  indeed  essential  to  your  safety ;  for  God 
will  forsake  the  man  who  forsakes  his  word  and  worship. 
That  man  will  sink  as  surely  as  if  he  were  to  quit  a  ship 
iu  the  midst  of  the  ocean.  More,  however,  is  requisite 
than  not  "  forsaking  the  assembling  of  ourselves  together'' 
with  them  who  love  Zion.  You  must  strive  to  be  "  in  the 
Spirit  on  the  Lord's  day,"  if  you  would  pass  unspotted  or 
safely  through  the  world  during  the  week.  For,  if  you  find 
it  to  be  hard  work  to  "  possess  your  soul  in  patience,"  or  to 
maintain  the  power  of  godliness,  amidst  the  pressure  of 
your  engagements,  even  in  those  weeks  which  are  ushered 
in  by  refreshing  Sabbaths  and  enjoyed  sacraments,  it  must 
be  impossible  to  do  so  when  Sabbaths  and  sacraments  are 
not  "times  of  refreshing  from  the  presence  of  the  Lord." 

Men  of  business  f  sufl^er  the  w^ord  of  exhortation.  You 
know  that  the  influence  of  the  world  is  baneful.  But,  do 
acquaint  yourselves  fully  with  the  Saviour's  opinion  of  it. 
Christ  never  spoke  of  the  world  to  his  disciples,  but  with 


202  THE     INFLUENCE      OF     PRAYER 

the  most  tremendous  emphasis.  There  is  nothing  in  all 
that  he  said  of  danger  from  Satan,  more  solemn  than  what 
he  said  of  the  evil  of  the  world.  The  prayer  he  offered 
on  Peter's  behalf,  when  Satan  desired  to  sift  him  as  wheat, 
has  not  been  left  on  record;  whereas  the  prayer  against 
the  evil  influence  of  the  world  is  recorded  at  full  length. 
No  prayer  of  Christ  is  so  long,  or  more  fervent.  He  re- 
peats the  petition  again  and  again,  that  his  disciples  may 
be  kept  from  "  the  evil." 

This  is  not  by  accident.  John,  who  heard  and  recorded 
this  prayer,  evidently  regarded  the  fact  as  full  of  special 
design.  And  that  he  remembered  it  through  life,  is  certain 
from  the  frequency  and  force  of  his  protest  against  the  love 
of  the  world.  His  epistles  are  a  solemn  commentary  on 
the  Saviour's  intercessory  prayer.  And,  in  the  same  spir- 
it, Paul's  chief  practical  reason  for  glorying  only  in  the 
cross  of  Christ  is  assigned  thus  :  "  5y  which  I  am  crucified 
unto  the  world,  and  the  world  unto  me." 

Now,  you  are  emphatically  "in  the  world," and  can  only  be 
efTectually  "  kept  from  the  evil  of  it,"  by  making  your  Sab- 
baths a  cloud  of  glory,  which  shall  encircle  and  enshrine 
the  whole  week  with  the  light  and  warmth  of  devotion. 


No.  IX. 

THE    INFLUENCE     OF     PRAYER     UPON     PEACE     OF 
MIND      UNDER      THE     TRIALS      OF     LIFE. 

What  an  idea  Paul  must  have  had  of  prayer,  as  an  anti- 
dote to  the  cares  of  life  and  godliness,  when  he  said  to  the 
Philippians,  "  Be  careful  for  nothing :  but  in  every  thing, 
by  prayer  and  supplication,  with  thanksgiving,  let  your  re- 
quests be  made  known  unto  God  ;  and  the  peace  of  God, 
which  passeth  all  understanding,  shall   keep  your  hearts 


UNDER    THE    TRIALS     OT     LIFE.  203 

and  minds  through  Christ  Jesus  !"  This  way  of  disposino- 
of  our  cares  and  anxieties  is  so  little  understood,  or  so  much 
disliked,  that  we  are  inclined  to  doubt  its  efficacy  in  our 
own  case ;  or  to  ask — how  is  it  possible,  in  a  world  like 
this,  to  "  he  careful  for  nothingV  Our  temporal  cares  are, 
as  we  think,  our  chief  hinderances  in  prayer.  We  ever 
turn  them,  at  times,  into  excuses  for  the  neglect  of  prayer ; 
and  imagine,  when  our  cares  are  many  and  pressing,  that 
much  prayer  cannot  be  expected  from  us.  For,  whatever 
influence  the  calamities  of  life  may  have  in  sending  us  often 
to  our  knees,  the  cares  of  life  have  a  direct  tendency  to  set 
aside,  or  shorten  secret  prayer.  Indeed,  at  first  sight,  our 
ordinary  cares  do  not  seem,  to  us,  to  be  things  which  prayer 
can  remedy  ;  but  things  which  only  time  and  toil  can  remove. 
Accordingly,  when  our  temporal  affairs  go  wrong,  or  our 
prospects  darken,  without  exactly  overwhelming  us,  we  nat- 
urally devote  to  them,  not  a  larger  measure  of  secret  prayer, 
but  a  larger  portion  of  time  and  thought,  it  is  thinking,  not 
praying,  that  seems  called  for,  under  embarrassment  and 
anxiety.  Under  heavy  calamity,  whether  personal  or  do- 
mestic, we  see,  at  once,  that  prayer  is  our  only  resource, 
'because  God  alone  can  deliver  us  ;  but  when  we  are  merely 
vexed  or  plagued,  we  feel  as  if  deliverance  depended  more 
upon  our  own  good  management,  or  upon  the  conduct  of 
others,  than  upon  the  providence  of  God.  Thus  we  are 
tempted  to  lessen  prayer,  and  to  increase  effort,  under  an 
idea  that  great  eflbrt  is  the  only  remedy. 

And,  certainly,  without  effort,  prayer  will  not  prove  a 
remedy  for  misfortune,  or  embarrassment.  He  who  does 
nothing  but  pray,  when  the  times  are  bad,  or  his  affairs  try- 
ing, will  not  surmount  his  difficulties.  Prayer  will  not  pay 
debts  nor  maintain  credit,  nor  meet  the  emergencies  of 
business.  A  man  praying,  when  he  ought  to  be  icorking, 
is  brother  in  impiety  to  the  man  who  is  working  when  he 
ought  to  be  praying.  This  concession  cannot  be  too  frankly 
made,  nor  too  forcibly  stated,  by  the  ministers  of  the  gospel. 
It  is  not,  however,  in  this  way  that  the  truly  serious  are  in 


204  THE  INFLUENCL  OF  PRAYER 

most  danger  of  erring.  When  any  thing  of  this  kind  occurs, 
it  is  always  in  the  case  of  men  who  never  were  consistent 
professors  of  religion  ;  but  doubtful  characters  from  the  first. 
Our  error,  in  seasons  of  trial,  is  not  in  praying  too  much, 
but  in  praying  too  little,  or  less  than  usual.  And  this  is  -a 
dangerous  error,  whatever  be  the  cause  or  character  of  our 
trials.  For  its  direct  tendency  is  to  turn  "  the  mighty  hand 
of  God"  against  us,  and  to  make  all  that  is  bad  in  our  lot 
worse.  Nothing,  therefore,  can  be  more  unwise  than  a 
process  which  must  grieve  the  Holy  Spirit,  and  make  God 
our  enemy.  Now  this  will  be  the  effect  of  ceasing  to  pray, 
when  the  troubles  of  life  are  pressing.  God  both  permits 
and  sends  these  troubles  for  the  express  purpose  of  bringing 
us  nearer  to  himself,  and  for  increasing  the  spirit  and  habit 
of  prayer  ;  and,  therefore,  if  we  allow  our  cares  to  break 
up  our  devotional  habits,  and  thus  to  draw  us  away  from 
God,  we  are  sure  to  draw  down  upon  ourselves  his  dis- 
pleasure, in  addition  to  all  other  trials.  And,  when  He 
takes  up  the  rod  to  contend  against  us,  who  can  tell  how 
long  or  severely  he  may  employ  it !  God  does  not,  indeed, 
afflict  willingly,  nor  grieve  unnecessarily,  the  children  of 
men ;  but  he  will  not  be  neglected  nor  forgotten  ;  he  will 
not  allow  himself  to  be  deserted  with  impunity.  God  acts, 
invariably,  with  an  express  reference  to  our  souls  and  eter- 
nity ;  and,  therefore,  unless  he  were  to  abandon  them  to  a 
desolate  eternity,  he  must  multiply  or  prolong  our  troubles, 
if  we  allow  them  to  estrange  our  hearts  and  habits  from  the 
throne  of  grace. 

This  is  not  the  view  we  are  apt  to  take  of  the  matter. 
AVhen  we  are  injured  by  treachery,  or  wounded  byunkind- 
ness  ;  when  the  badness  of  the  times,  or  the  baseness  of 
false  friends,  wring  our  hearts,  until  we  can  think  of  nothing 
else,  we  feel  as  if  prayer,  in  this  state  of  mind,  would  be 
mere  mockery  of  God  and  useless  to  ourselves.  The  loss, 
the  injury,  aud  the  wounds  of  the  heart,  which  we  hafve 
sustained,  are  so  present  to  our  minds,  and  press  so  upon 
all  our  feelings,  and  keep  up  such  an  agitation  of  soul,  that 


UNDER    THE    TRIALS    OF    LIFE.  205 

it  seems  impossible  to  pray.  "  What  could  we  pray  for  at 
such  a  time  and  in  such  a  temper  ?"  In  this  way  we  reason. 
Or  if  we  do  try  to  pray  as  usual,  we  soon  find  that  we  cannot. 
We  are  so  haunted  and  harassed  by  the  recollection  of  our 
grievances,  that  every  thing  else  is  almost  banished  from 
our  memory.  W^e  catch  ourseh'es  thinking  of  nothing  else, 
even  when  our  knees  are  bended,  and  our  lips  speaking  be- 
fore God.  We  find  that,  whilst  going  over  our  usual  peti- 
tions, in  words,  we  have  been  going  over,  in  thought,  the 
whole  history  of  our  injuries.  "  And  this,"  we  justly  say, 
"  is  not  praying."  We  even  conclude  that  it  is  better  to 
keep  out  of  our  closet  altogether  for  a  time,  than  to  enter 
into  it  with  such  feelings  uppermost  in  our  minds. 

This  is  the  view  we  are  inclined  to  take  of  the  matter. 
And,  at  first  sight,  it  seems  very  plausible.  It  manifests, 
however,  a  sad  lack  of  common  sense,  as  well  as  of  gra- 
cious principle,  w^hen  we  thus  give  way  to  such  excuses. 
For,  what  good  can  all  our  pondering  upon  our  losses  or 
crosses  do  ?  It  will  not  repair  the  one,  nor  remove  the 
other.  We  are,  in  fact,  doubling  our  cares,  every  time  we 
go  over  the  history  of  them.  Whilst  thus  placing  them  in 
every  light,  we  are  aggravating  them.  Whilst  dwelling 
upon  them,  we  are  imbittering  our  remaining  comforts,  and 
actually  risking  the  loss  of  every  thing;  for  we  may  fret 
ourselves  into  a  fever  or  phrensy,  and  thus  be  unfitted  for  all 
the  duties  and  enjoyments  of  life. 

It  is  upon  this  principle,  as  well  as  upon  higher  consid- 
erations, that  God  forbids  all  undue  care.  It  cannot  be 
indulged  with  safety  to  our  health  of  body  or  mind,  nor 
w^ith  benefit  to  any  of  our  interests.  Its  direct  tendency  is 
to  make  all  that  is  bad  worse,  and  to  imbitter  all  that  is 
sweet  in  our  lot.  Accordingly,  we  have  never  mended  any 
thing  that  was  wrong,  by  vexing  ourselves  about  it.  When- 
ever we  have  got  over  any  grievance,  it  has  been  by  an 
effort  to  forgive  it,  or  by  praying  down  the  memory  of  it. 
Peace  and  composure  of  mind  have  never  been  regained, 
until  we  returned  to  our  old  devotional  habits.     This  return, 

VOL.  I. — 18 


206  THE  INFLUENCE  OF  PRAYER 

however,  does  not  usually  take  place,  until  we  are  actually 
tired  of  brooding  and  fretting  over  our  cares.  We  indulge 
"  our  vexation  of  spirit,"  until  it  work  itself  out  by  its  own 
violence  or  is  displaced  by  some  more  absorbing  subject. 
This,  however,  is  not  the  scriptural  way  of  getting  over  the 
vexations  and  grievances  of  life.  Leaving  them  to  die  a 
natural  death  is  not  Christian  prudence.  Yielding  to  their 
distracting  influence,  until  we  are  sick  of  it,  is  not  creditable 
to  our  principles,  nor  to  our  common  sense.  They  ought 
to  be  met  at  once  by  prayer,  and  to  be  put  down  by  it.  And 
this  is  not  impossible,  however  difficult  it  may  seem  at  first 
sight.  There  is,  in  fact,  no  case  of  trial,  in  which  prayer 
is  not  an  effectual  antidote  against  disquietude  and  corro- 
ding anxiety.  "The  peace  of  God"  can  and  will  keep  both 
the  "  heart  and  mind"  of  those  who  cast  all  their  care  upon 
God,  "by  supplication  and  prayer,  with  thanksgiving." 
Nothing  can  resist  the  sweet  influence  of  this  devotional 
habit. 

If  we  doubt  the  truth  of  this,  there  is  some  grand  defect 
in  our  ideas  of  prayer  itself,  or  in  our  manner  of  praying, 
in  reference  to  cares  and  vexations.  Prayer,  under  them, 
must  be  regulated  by  scriptural  rules,  if  we  would  expe- 
rience the  benefit  of  it.  Now,  one  of  these  rules  is,  that  it 
must  be  "  with  thanksgiving.''^  If,  therefore,  we  go  to  the 
throne  of  grace,  only  to  deplore  our  losses,  only  to  unbosom 
our  cares,  or  only  to  make  known  our  wants,  we  have  no 
warrant  whatever  to  expect  support  or  peace  under  them. 
Our  "  requests"  must  be  mingled  with  "  thanksgiving"  if 
we  would  succeed  in  obtaining  "  grace  to  help  in  time  of 
need."  No  wonder !  for  even  when  our  cares  are  heaviest, 
and  our  wants  most  pressing,  we  bave  much  cause  for  grat- 
itude. In  general,  the  comforts  which  are  left  with  us  are 
more  than  those  which  are  taken  away,  whether  they  be 
property,  friends,  or  business.  And  even  when  what  is  left 
is  nothing,  compared  with  what  is  lost,  there  is  always 
something  remains  worthy  of  being  gratefully  acknow- 
ledged.    However  prone,  therefore,  we  may  be  to  lose,  in 


UNDER    THE    TRIALS    OF     LIFE.  207 

what  is  lost,  the  recollection  and  estimate  of  what  is  left, 
God  does  not  forget  what  is  spared  to  us,  nor  forego  his 
claims  upon  our  gratitude.  He  will  be  acknowledged  for 
what  we  have,  as  well  as  applied  to  for  what  we  want.  In- 
stead, therefore,  of  going  to  our  closets,  only  to  pour  out 
griefs  before  him,  we  ought  to  go  also  for  the  express  pur- 
pose of  reviewing  with  wonder,  and  recording  with  grati- 
tude, every  spared  comfort  and  continued  mercy.  This  is 
an  essential  part  of  the  devotional  process  of  throwing  off 
undue  carefulness  ;  and,  accordingly,  it  is  also  an  effectual 
part. 

"But,"  it  may  be  said,  "who  can  engage  in  thanksgiving, 
when  his  heart  is  bleeding  by  unkindness,  or  treachery,  or 
bereavement  ?"  Why,  all  whose  hearts  have  any  hope  of 
salvation.  Is  the  hope  of  eternal  life  such  a  trifle  as  to  be 
unworthy  of,  or  unfit  for,  a  song  of  praise,  whenever  any  of 
the  comforts  of  this  life  are  taken  away  ?  What  a  poor  hold 
of  it  we  must  have,  if  we  can  forget  it  in  the  day  of  calami- 
ty !  What  a  low  estimate  we  have  formed  of  it,  if  it  can  be 
insipid  whenever  we  are  put  out  of  the  way  by  temporal 
things  !  I  do  not  think  lightly  of  cares  or  crosses,  vexations 
or  grievances — they  are  hard  to  bear ;  but  what  are  they, 
compared  with  the  wrath  and  curse  of  God,  or  with  the 
agonies  of  despair  ?  Any  lot,  out  of  hell,  demands  and  de- 
serves our  fervent  gratitude  ;  and,  where  the  hope  of  heav- 
en is  left  in  the  bosom,  no  earthly  loss  can  excuse  silence. 
But,  in  general,  how  many  other  comforts  are  left  with  it! 
The  friends  who  remain  true  to  us  are  more  than  those  who 
have  betrayed  us.  Our  losses  have  not  left  us  destitute. 
Our  bereavements  have  not  made  us  homeless.  If  a  few 
have  wounded  our  hearts,  more  have  tried  to  pour  balm  in- 
to them.  Besides,  God  has  never  forsaken  us.  God  has 
never  hurt  our  feelings  by  unkindness.  God  has  never  be- 
trayed our  confidence.  He  has  been  faithful,  watchful,  and 
tender,  throughout  all  his  dealings  with  us.  And  shall  the 
ingratitude  or  baseness  of  others  turn  us  against  him  ?  Shall 
we  cease  to  praise  the  Father  of  our  mercies,  because  a  fel- 


208  THE  INFLUENCE  OF  PRAYER 

low-creature  deserves  blame  ?  Shall  we  resent  our  injuries 
upon  God,  upon  our  Saviour,  or  upon  the  Holy  Spirit,  by- 
neglecting  them,  because  others  have  acted  unjustly  to- 
wards us  ?  The  bare  idea  is  equally  shocking  and  absurd. 
You  see,  you  begin  to  feel  now,  that  if  after  any  harassing 
or  unhinging  event  the  first  thing  we  did  was — to  retire  in- 
to the  presence  of  God,  to  consider,  first,  our  untouched 
property,  our  untouched  comforts,  our  untouched  friends, 
and  our  untouched  hopes,  we  could  not  be  so  overcome  as 
we  usually  have  been,  nor  so  much  put  out  of  the  way. 
The  review  of  what  is  left  would  compel  thanksgiving  :  and 
praise  would  fit  the  mind  for  prayer.  But  if  we  gointo  the 
closet  choking  and  chafed  with  the  sense  of  injury,  and 
looking  only  at  the  persons  who  inflicted  it,  it  is  impossible 
to  pray  at  all.  Our  breast  must  be  cleared  by  praise^  before 
it  can  be  calmed  by  prayer,  at  such  times. 

This,  however,  is  not  the  only  thing  necessary,  in  order 
to  secure  peace  of  mind  under  the  trials  of  life.  It  is  not 
every  kind  of  praying  that  will  meet  our  case.  Even  earn- 
est supplication  for  pity  and  support  is  not  fully  to  the  point, 
when  the  heart  is  full  of  anger  or  vexation.  Indeed,  in  that 
state,  it  cannot  be  comforted,  and  will  not  be  humoured  ;  for 
God  will  not  countenance  a  bad  spirit  in  his  children.  He 
may  not  always  "rebuke"  a  wrong  spirit  in  them  ;  but  he 
will  only  sooth  them  by  subduing  it.  And  he  will  teach 
you,  as  he  did  Jonah,  to  cease  from  saying,  "  I  do  well  to 
be  angry."  Such  being  his  rule  in  vouchsafing  support  and 
consolation  to  sufl^erers,  it  is  self-evident  that  our  prayers 
under  the  trials  of  life  should  include — 

First.  A  distinct  and  humble  acknowledgement  of  God's 
supreme  right  to  per7nit  these  trials.  Until  this  be  confessed, 
it  is  impossible  to  pray  with  pleasure  or  advantage.  Indeed, 
we  are  not  suppliants  at  all,  but  claimants,  whilst  we  con- 
sider it  unjust  or  unkind,  on  the  part  of  God,  to  permit  these 
trials.  As  they  come  from  the  hand  of  man,  they  may  be 
flagrantly  unjust ;  but,  as  they  come  from  the  hand  of  God, 
they  cannot  be  even  unkind  or  unnecessary.     They  maybe 


UNDER    THE    TRIALS    OF    LIFE.  209 

wholly  undeserved  by  us,  so  far  as  man  is  concerned ;  but 
they  are  wholly  deserved  from  God.  He  might  justly  per- 
mit and  appoint  far  more  and  heavier  trials  than  any  we 
have  ever  experienced  ;  for,  whatever  they  be,  "he  hath  not 
dealt  with  us  according  to  our  sins,  nor  rewarded  us  accord- 
ing to  our  iniquities."  We  do  not  understand  the  evil  of 
sin,  nor  the  necessity  of  holiness,  if  we  deny  or  doubt  this. 
The  punishment  of  sin  is  wrath  to  the  uttermost ;  and  there- 
fore, chastisement  for  sin,  however  severe,  is,  in  fact,  mercy. 

It  is  by  forgetting  or  overlooking  this  scriptural  view  of  our 
trials,  that  they  so  fill  us  with  care,  and  unfit  us  for  devotion. 
We  confine  our  attention  to  them  as  unmerited  injuries  from 
the  hand  of  man,  instead  of  regarding  them  also  as  merited 
chastisements  from  the  hand  of  God.  Accordingly,  we 
cannot  pray  whilst  we  take  this  partial  view  of  them.  But 
we  can  pray,  even  when  they  press  heaviest,  if  we  are  pre- 
pared to  confess  that  we  deserve  them  all  and  more,  from 
God.  This  confession  is  itself,  the  best  kind  of  prayer  in 
times  of  trial.  In  fact  no  other  kind  of  prayer  will  be  of 
any  use,  until  we  fully  acknowledge  before  God  that  his 
judgments  are  just.  Whoever,  therefore,  would  regain 
peace  of  mind,  or  get  over  the  unhappy  and  unholy  feelings 
created  by  cares  and  vexations,  must  make  up  his  mind  to 
go  fully  into  the  duty  of  confession,  however  painful  or 
mortifying  it  may  seem  to  him  at  first.  It  will  amply  repay 
him!  He  will  feel  himself  a  new  man,  from  the  moment 
he  has  humbly  bowed  to  the  sentence  of  God.  The  act  of 
humiliation  will  pluck  from  his  bosom  the  canker  of  pride, 
and  thus  make  room  again  for  the  peace  of  God. 

Secondly.  Our  prayers  under  the  trials  of  life,  must 
include  a  distinct  acknowledgment  of  the  wisdom  and  kind" 
ness  of  God.  It  is  both  wise  and  kind,  as  well  as  just,  on 
the  part  of  God,  to  try  the  faith  and  patience  of  believers. 
For  how  else  could  we  fully  ascertain  the  sincerity  of  our 
faith  or  love  ?  We  often  doubt  it,  and  pray  that  God  would 
put  it  beyond  all  doubt.  Now,  the  ordinary  trials  of  life 
are  the  best  tests  of  our  sincerity  :  far  better  than  extraor- 
18* 


210  THE     INFLUENCE    OF    PRAYER 

dinary  calamities  are.  Under  heavy  calamities  we  must 
submit,  because  we  cannot  resist.  They  also  break  down 
or  soften  the  spirit  so  that  it  is  difficult  to  decide  whether 
our  feelings,  under  them,  are  from  the  weakness  of  nature, 
or  the  strength  of  grace.  Whereas  the  trials  which  leave 
us  in  full  possession  of  all  our  faculties,  and  with  some 
opportunities  of  surmounting  them,  prove  what  our  princi- 
ples are  and  can  bear.  When  therefore  we  do  not,  and 
dare  not,  quit  the  narrow  way,  even  when  it  is  thorny  and 
rugged,  our  sincerity  is  demonstrated  to  ourselves  and 
others.  And  it  is  delightful  to  feel  that,  though  disconcert- 
ed and  somewhat  discouraged,  the  Saviour  is  dearer  to  us 
than  any  thing  we  have  lost.  Then  the  soul  gets  a  clear 
sight  of  its  own  principles,  as  John  did  when  he  said,  "this 
is  the  victory  which  overcometh  the  world,  even  our  faith." 
Now,  if  it  be  wise  to  bring  us  thus  fully  to  the  point,  it 
must  be  kind  to  employ  means  which  do  it  effectually.  In 
praying,  therefore,  under  them,  this  must  be  acknowledged 
before  God.  And  the  way  to  bring  out  the  acknowledg- 
ment is  to  press  home  upon  ourselves  the  questions,  which 
is  brtter,  to  be  uncertain  of  the  reality  of  my  faith,  or  to  be 
sure  of  it  ?  To  know  that  my  heart  is  right  with  God,  or 
to  be  in  perpetual  doubt  of  it  ?  To  feel  sure  that  I  am  won 
to  the  cross  by  the  worth  of  salvation,  and  not  bribed  to  it 
by  the  comforts  of  life  ?  Such  questions  search  the  heart 
and  the  reins.  They  throw  us  upon  the  meaning  of  our 
professions  of  faith  and  love.  We  have  often  said  with 
Paul,  "  yea,  doubtless,  I  count  all  things  but  loss  that  I 
may  be  found  in  Christ ;"  and  this  is  easily  said,  when  we 
are  losing  nothing.  Accordingly  it  is  doubtful,  and  not 
"  doubtless,"  in  our  case,  until  we  have  "  suffered  the  loss" 
of  something,  without  shrinking  from  Christ.  Paul  had 
suffered  the  loss  of  "  all  things,"  when  he  avowed  his  ad- 
herence to  the  Saviour ;  and,  therefore,  all  things  in  his 
lot,  and  conduct,  and  temper,  echoed  back  his  "  doubtless.*^ 
To  pray  in  the  spirit  thus  characterized  and  commended, 
is  not,  indeed,  easy.     It  is  almost  impossible  at  first,  or  by 


UNDER     THE     TRIALS     OF     LIFE.  211 

a  direct  effort.  Such  submission  and  gratitude,  under  vex- 
ing and  wasting  cares,  can  only  be  acquired  by  concentra- 
ting our  prayers,  for  a  time,  upon  our  eternal  interests. 
They  must  be  all  in  all,  before  our  temporal  interests  can 
be  seen  in  their  true  light.  The  temporal  will  seem  unduly 
important,  until  the  eternal  appear  as  they  are — infinitely 
important !  No  one  can  calmly  lose  this  world's  goods,  or 
keep  a  loose  hold  of  them,  who  has  not  a  firm  hold  upon 
the  glories  of  the  world  to  come.  His  efforts  to  reason 
down,  or  pray  down,  disquietude,  will  defeat  themselves, 
until  he  "  can  read"  or  determine  to  read 

"  His  title  clear, 
To  mansions  in  the  skies." 

It  was  only  when  Paul  looked  at  the  things  which  were 
unseen  and  eternal,  that  he  was  able  to  counterbalance  the 
weight  of  the  things  which  were  seen  and  temporal.  And 
this  maxim  is  as  necessary  in  our  case,  however  much  less 
than  his  our  trials  may  be. 

Are  you  then  safe  for  eternity  ?  Are  you  sure  of  your 
personal  interest  in  Christ  and  heaven  ?  If  not,  let  all 
your  thoughts  and  prayers  centre  upon  the  settlement,  the 
immediate  and  perfect  settlement,  of  this  chief  point.  This 
process  will  soon  place  temporal  things  before  you,  as  they 
appear  to  a  dying  man.  It  is  not  by  an  effort  that  he  for- 
gets them — but  by  the  influence  of  an  opening  eternity. 
Dwell,  therefore,  on  the  sides  of  eternity,  with  the  ques- 
tion, "  Am  I  safe  ?"  until  you  can  answer  it  before  God 
and  man,  on  scriptural  grounds.  Thus  prayer  will  produce 
peace,  even  in  your  case.* 

*  See  "Eternity  Realized,  or  a  Guide  to  the  Thoughtful ;"  the 
third  part  of  this  volume. 


212  THE   saviour's 

No.  X. 

THE     saviour's     DEVOTIONAL     HABITS. 

"  Jesus  went  up  into  a  mountain ;"  for  what  purpose  ? 
To  view  the  Judean  landscape,  while  the  setting  sun  was 
flushing  the  lake  of  Gennesaret,  and  flinging  his  yellow 
radiance  over  the  adjacent  wilderness  ? — No. 

"  When  the  evening  was  come,  Jesus  was  there  alone" 
Why? — That  he  might  watch  the  rising  of  the  evening 
star,  and  mark  the  lamps  of  heaven  kindling  in  clusters 
and  constellations  throughout  the  hemisphere  ?  No.  Did 
he,  then,  ascend  the  mountain  to  enjoy  repose  ?  The 
Saviour  needed  rest  at  the  time,  for  he  had  spent  the  day  in 
healing  the  sick  and  feeding  the  hungry,  under  a  scorching 
sun,  and  amidst  a  crowding  multitude.  But  it  was  not  for 
rest  that  he  retired  :  "He  went  up  to  a  mountain  apart  to 
'prayP  Was  this  devotional  exercise  less  sublime  than 
gazing  on  the  gilded  landscape  and  the  glowing  firmament  ? 
Those  who  ascend  mountains,  voluntarily  and  alone,  do  so, 
in  general,  to  indulge  poetic  or  scientific  taste  ;  to  com- 
mand the  prospect,  and  to  commune  with  nature  in  silence 
and  solitude.  Jesus  ascended  to  pray ;  and  by  prayer,  to 
commune  with  God  :  a  nobler  communion  than  poets  or 
philosophers  ever  had  with  nature,  in  her  majestic  or  love- 
ly scenes.  And  yet,  how  few  are  alive  to  the  sublimity  of 
devotional  solitude  !  Praying  in  secret  to  the  Father  who 
seeth  in  secret,  is  an  exercise  equally  solemn  and  august; 
but  how  little  interest  it  excites  to  say  of  a  man,  he  is  alone 
praying ! 

Tell  men  of  taste  that  their  favourite  poet  is  alone  amidst 
the  scenery  of  the  lakes  or  the  Grampians  ;  alone  on  the 
Alps  or  the  Andes  ;  alone  in  the  Coliseum  of  Rome,  or 
amidst  the  Pyramids  of  Egypt ;  and  immediately  his  ad- 
mirers will  realize  his  emotions,  and  dwell  with  him  in 


DEVOTIONAL     HABITS.  213 

spirit,  amidst  clouds  and  cataracts,  rocks  and  ruins,  and 
feel  as  if  he  were  more  than  mortal.  But  tell  them  that 
he  is  alone  praying :  and  that  moment  the  charm  will  be 
dissolved,  and  the  man  pitied  as  insane,  or  despised  as  fa- 
natical.    So  lightly  is  devotional  solitude  esteemed ! 

Tell  scientific  men,  that  the  first  astronomer  of  the  age 
is  alone  in  the  chief  observatory  in  the  world,  with  the 
most  powerful  telescopes  ever  lifted  to  the  heavens ;  and 
all  kindred  minds  will  at  once  kindle  in  prospect  of  his  dis- 
coveries. The  silence  and  solitude  of  his  post  are  held 
sublime,  and  felt  to  be  in  harmony  with  the  silent  sweep  of 
the  celestial  orbs,  and  the  music  of  the  spheres.  But  tell 
his  admirers  that  he  often  pauses,  amidst  the  roll  and  ra- 
diance of  the  heavenly  bodies,  to  pray ;  and  although  one 
of  their  own  poets  has  said  that 

"  An  undevout  astronomer  is  mad," 
—2  I. 

his  devotion  will  be  esteemed  madness  or  weakness. 

"  The  poet's  eye,  in  a  fine  phrensy  rolling, 

Doth  glance  from  heaven  to  earth,  from  earth  to  heaven," 

and  is  almost  adored ;  but  the  penitent's  eyes,  swimming 
in  tears  of  contrition,  and  hardly  daring  to  look  up,  even 
when  alone  before  God,  are  despised  by  the  generality  of 
mankind.  But  "  a  broken  and  a  contrite  heart,  0  God,  thou 
wilt  not  despise."  The  astronomer  tracing  the  stars  in 
their  courses,  and  tracking  the  devious  comet  in  its  flight, 
is  held  to  be  a  star  of  the  first  magnitude  in  mental  system 
— strong  in  understanding,  and  lofty  in  genius.  But  the 
Christian,  retired  to  pray,  is  held  to  be  almost  mean-spirited, 
and  yet — he  lifts  his  adoring  eyes  to  heaven,  of  which  the 
incarnate  "  brightness  of  the  Father's  glory"  is  both  "  the 
morning  star"  and  "  the  sun  of  righteousness  ;"  and  in  his 
light  sees  the  landscape  of  eternity  illuminated — the  valley 
of  the  shadow  of  death,  irradiated  with  the  Divine  pre- 
sence, and  all  the  intermediate  track  of  time  basking  under 


214  THE  saviour's 

the  eye  of  Providence.  Often,  when  alone  praying,  he 
finds  his  closet  the  very  gate  of  heaven,  and  feels  as  if 
"  open  vision"  would  follow  his  intimate  communion  with 
God  and  the  Lamb.  Whatever,  therefore,  may  be  thought 
or  said,  by  taste,  science,  or  ignorance,  of  going  apart  and 
being  alone  to  pray,  devotional  solitude  is  often  exhilara- 
ting, and  always  soothing. 

It  is  commended  by  the  high  example,  and  commanded 
by  the  high  authority,  of  the  Saviour  : — 

"  Cold  mountains,  and  the  midnight  air, 
Witnessed  the  fervour  of  his  prayer." 

His  example  does  not,  of  course,  enforce  an  ascent  to  a 
mountain  in  order  to  pray.  He  went  up  into  a  mountain 
from  necessity — not  from  choice  ;  because,  as  the  Son  of 
man,  he  had  not  where  to  lay  his  head  ;  no  home  or  closet. 
To  those  who  have  both,  his  command  is,  "  Enter  into  thy 
closet."  And  we  learn,  from  his  example,  that  inconvenience 
must  not  prevent  secret  prayer.  Here  was  the  Saviour  up- 
on a  lonely  mountain — exposed  to  the  cold  winds  and  dews 
of  the  night — the  ground  damp  beneath  his  knees,  and  the 
air  chill  around  him  ;  and  yet  he  prayed — prayed  long  ;  the 
morning  star  often  finding  him  where  the  evening  star  had 
left  him.  We  have  not  such  inconveniences  to  surmount. 
What  is  a  cold  room  in  winter,  or  a  close  room  in  summer, 
compared  to  the  hoary  side  of  a  bleak  and  dreary  mountain 
at  midnight  ?  And  yet,  how  often  are  cold  and  heat  al- 
lowed to  hinder  or  hurry  over  secret  prayer  ?  Let  sloth 
look  to  the  Saviour's  retirement,  and  blush !  God  might 
have  enjoined  us  to  ascend  such  a  mountain  whenever  we 
prayed  ;  and  if  he  had  commanded  it,  the  duty  would  have 
been  indispensable  :  but,  in  tender  accommodation  to  our 
comfort,  he  has  granted  us,  what  he  withheld  from  his  in- 
carnate Son — a  house  ;  and  says,  "  Enter  into  thy  closet." 
The  Saviour's  example  proves  that  the  fatigue  of  labour 
must  not  prevent  secret  prayer.  He  had  spent  the  day 
until  the  evening  in  active  exertion  amongst  the  multitude 


DEVOTIONAL     HABITS.  215 

that  followed  him  into  the  wilderness.  During  all  the  time 
he  had  been  under  the  burning  sun  in  a  sandy  desert,  and 
had  afterward  to  ascend  the  mountain  alone.  And  there — 
neither  shelter  nor  refreshment  awaited  him  ;  but,  although 
thus  exhausted  and  exposed,  he  closed  the  labours  of  the 
day  by  prayer.  Now,  his  example  ought  to  have  all  the 
authority  of  a  law — all  the  influence  of  a  charm  upon  his 
disciples.  We  do  not  come  home  more  fatigued  than  he 
was.  He  had  no  house — no  domestic  comforts — neither 
shelter  nor  pillow  for  his  sacred  head ;  and  yet  he  went 
apart  to  pray.      He  will  remind  the  prayerless  of  this  fact. 

The  Saviour's  example  proves  that  even  deeds  of  charity 
and  great  exertions  for  the  poor  and  afllicted,  must  not  set 
aside  secret  prayer.  He  closed  a  day  of  mighty  effort  on  be- 
half of  sufl'ering  humanity,  by  going  apart  to  pray.  And  sure- 
ly if  serving  others  must  not  prevent  devotional  solitude,  serv- 
ing ourself  must  not  be  allowed  to  do  so;  if  acts  of  charity 
will  not  excuse  neglect,  the  labours  of  industry  cannot ;  if  giv- 
ing money  to  the  poor  be  no  plea  for  the  omission  of  prayer, 
making  money  is  not  a  valid  one.  Accordingly,  while  "  dili- 
gence in  business"  is  expressly  enjoined,  "  fervency  of  spirit" 
in  prayer,  rests  upon  the  same  high  and  unalterable  authority. 
Pray  or  perish  is  the  alternative  set  before  us  in  the  gospel. 

The  Saviour's  example  proves  that  no  strength  of  charac- 
ter or  of  grace  can  render  devotional  solitude  unnecessary. 
He  who  had  the  Spirit  without  measure — who  knew  no  sin 
— who  was  full  of  grace,  and  in  whom  Satan  could  find 
nothing  to  work  upon — He  went  apart  to  pray.  He  held 
neither  the  fulness  of  his  Godhead,  nor  the  perfection  of  his 
humanity,  as  a  reason  for  restraining  prayer.  And  surely 
nothing  that  we  have  "  attained"  can  render  us  independent 
of  secret  devotion  !  "  The  servant  is  not  greater  than  his 
Lord."  If,  therefore,  Satan,  or  sloth,  or  pride,  say  we  may 
do  with  less  prayer  than  at  first,  let  us  hear  the  insinuation 
as  we  should  the  assertion  that  we  can  do  with  less  glory- 
ing in  the  Cross  than  we  began  with. 

But  here  an  important  question  forces  itself  upon  the 


216  THE  saviour's 

mind — Why  did  the  Saviour  pray  ?  He  did  pray  often  and 
fervently  ;  and  the  fact  has  been  perverted  into  an  argument 
against  his  proper  divinity.  But  remember  what  he  prayed 
for  ;  it  was  chiefly  for  others ;  and  when  it  was  for  himself, 
never  for  ability  to  save — never  for  virtue  to  give  efficacy 
to  his  atonement — never  for  strength  to  redeem.  No — all 
his  petitions  in  his  own  behalf  were  for  the  helps  required  by 
his  human  nature.  He  could,  indeed,  have  drawn  on  the 
resources  of  his  own  personal  Godhead  :  but  it  was  neces- 
sary that  the  co-operation  of  the  Father  in  the  work  of  re 
demption  should  appear  ;  and,  therefore,  all  the  dependance 
of  his  humanity  was  thrown  on  the  Father's  good  will :  and 
thus  prayer  was  rendered  both  necessary  and  proper.  Be- 
sides, secret  devotion  is  more  than  prayer  :  it  is  also  com- 
munion  with  God.  Now,  what  is  more  natural,  and  con- 
sistent, and  becoming,  than  that  the  Son  should  retire  to 
commune  with  the  Father  ?  For,  having  dwelt  in  his  bosom 
from  eternity,  it  might  be  expected  that  he  would  maintain 
the  original  intimacy,  both  for  its  own  sake,  and  that  it 
miffht  be  known  that  neither  distance  nor  incarnation  had 
interrupted  their  fellowship.  Instead,  therefore,  of  dero- 
gating from  its  divinity,  such  prayer  harmonizes  with  the 
highest  ideas  of  godhead — being  in  fact  a  specimen  of  its 
devout  communion.  Besides,  in  praying,  as  in  all  practical 
duty,  the  Saviour  was  acting  as  the  example  of  his  follow- 
ers. He  had  taught  his  disciples  to  pray  :  and  he  illustra- 
ted and  enforced  the  lessons  by  his  own  devotional  habits  : 
and  if  it  was  worthy  of  his  divinity  to  inculcate  devotion,  it 
could  not  be  unworthy  of  him  to  exemplify  it.  "  When  he 
putteth  forth  his  own  sheep  he  goeth  before  them  :"  he  sent 
them  into  secret  to  pray,  and  he  himself  went  apart  to  pray. 
The  Saviour  consulted  our  interest  as  well  as  our  Fa- 
ther's glory,  when  he  enjoined  devotional  solitude  upon  his 
disciples.  For,  in  the  best  frame  of  mind,  a  Christian  re- 
quires to  be  alone  at  times.  The  privacy  of  the  domestic 
altar  is  not  sufficiently  "  apart,"  when  the  heart  is  full  and 
overflowing  with  adoring  and  melting  views  of  sovereign 


D  EVOTIONAL    HABITS.  217 

and  free  grace.  The  full-souled  exclamation,  "  Why  me, 
Lord  !"  with  its  tones  and  teais,  is  fit  only  for  the  ear  of 
God.  And  when  the  witness  of  the  Spirit  is  strong,  and 
the  seal  of  the  spirit  bright ;  when  the  soul  is  borne  away 
amongst  "  the  deep  things  of  God,  and  the  dazzling  scenes 
of  eternity — we  must  be  alone,  or  lose  one  half  of  the  en- 
joyment. Even  a  family,  however  endeared,  would  be  a 
check,  at  these  sacred  moments,  on  the  full  flow  of  devo- 
tional feelings,  and  on  the  flush  of  a  hope  full  of  immortali- 
ty. Solitude  is  the  real  element  of  these  raptures.  But 
then — the  Christian  is  not  alone  ;  the  mount  of  communion 
is  covered  with  "  horses  of  fire,  and  chariots  of  fire."  He 
is  alone  "with  an  innumerable  company  of  angels,  and  with 
the  spirits  of  just  men  made  perfect." 

Solitude  is  also  peculiarly  suitable  to  the  worst  frames  of  a 
Christian's  mind.  The  tones  and  terms  in  which  backsli- 
ding, or  indeed  any  sin,  can  be  deplored  in  the  domestic  or 
social  circle,  are  both  too  general  and  tame  for  the  emotions 
of  a  contrite  spirit.  David  was  alone  when  he  said,  "  I  have 
rfbne  astray  like  a  lost  sheep.'*  Asaph  was  alone  when  he 
said,  "  I  was  as  a  beast  before  thee."  Ephraim  was  alone 
when  he  smote  upon  his  thigh  and  acknowledged  that  he 
had  been  as  "  a  bullock  unaccustomed  to  the  yoke."  And 
our  secret  sorrows  and  shame  are  not  fit  even  for  the  ear  of 
our  families.  They  might  be  misunderstood  and  misinter- 
preted by  others  ;  whereas,  He  who  hears  in  secret  can  heal 
in  secret.  And  what  a  sanctuary  is  solitude  for  the  expres- 
sion of  all  those  feelings  which,  even  at  home,  can  only  be 
breathed  in  general  and  gentle  terms !  It  will  not  do  to 
utter  before  our  families  all  our  fears  of  death,  nor  all  our 
anxieties  for  them.  It  will  not  do  to  unburden  and  unbo- 
som all  the  heart  to  any  one  but  God.  God  seeth  and  hear- 
eth  in  secret.  What  a  mercy !  What  a  wise  and  kind  ar- 
rangement !  "  It  is  good  for  me  to  draw  night  unto  God," 
alone ! 

Vol.  i.— 19 


218  COMMUNION    WITH    GOD 

No.  XI. 

COMMUNION    WITH     GOD    IN    AFFLICTION. 

Whilst  it  is  still  true  that  "  through  much  tribulation  we 
must  enter  into  the  kingdom  of  God,"  it  is,  happily,  our  lot 
to  live  at  a  time,  and  in  a  place,  free  from  the  fiery  trial  of 
persecution  and  martyrdom.  Neither  bonds  nor  imprison- 
ments await  us  in  the  service  of  God.  Our  property  is  safe, 
and  our  good  name  hardly  in  danger.  "  Cruel  mockings," 
for  righteousness'  sake,  do  not  come  from  the  public  voice 
now ;  and  "  scourgings,"  for  the  sake  of  Christ,  would  be 
denounced  even  by  the  enemies  of  the  cross  of  Christ. 

This  happy  change  in  the  public  mind  and  manners  de- 
mands our  grateful  acknowledgments.  For  if  we  are  at 
times  staggered  and  almost  overwhelmed  by  the  ordinary 
trials  of  life,  what  would  be  the  effect  of  such  fiery  trials  as 
the  first  Christians  had  to  endure  ?  If  we  call,  and  feel  our 
heaviest  troubles  to  be,  a  furnace,  what  should  we  have 
thought  of  the  Babylonian  furnace  and  the  flames  of  martyr- 
dom ?  If  we  shrink  from  a  sneer  or  sarcasm,  now  that  it 
is  no  longer  backed  by  the  sword,  how  should  we  have 
acted  when  it  was  the  signal  for  guards  to  arrest,  or  for  the 
rab])le  to  stone,  Christians  ? 

These  are  not  the  trials  of  our  times.  It  was,  however, 
to  such  trials,  chiefly,  that  the  greatest  of  the  "  great  and 
precious  promises"  refer.  It  is  not  exactly  of  chronic  nor 
acute  diseases  of  the  body,  that  the  Saviour  and  the  apostles 
speak  when  they  comfort  the  church  under  her  manifold 
afllictions.  It  was  not  over  sick-beds  by  name,  nor  over 
mere  d(^ath-beds  by  name,  that  they  opened  the  visions  of 
all-sufllcient  grace,  and  of  an  eternal  weight  of  glory ;  but 
over  racks,  and  scaffolds,  and  dungeons. 

These  facts  are  startling  at  first  sight !  They  are,  how- 
ever, facts  ;  and,  therefore,  should  neither  be  concealed  nor 
overlooked.  We,  indeed,  have  formed  the  habit  of  apply- 
ng  any  promise  of  grace  or  strength  to  any  trial  whatever. 


IN   AFFLICTION.  219 

We  do  not  hesitate  to  draw  as  freely  upon  the  "  strong  con- 
solation" of  the  well-ordered  covenant,  when  in  sickness  or 
pain,  as  the  martyrs  did  when  they  were  imprisoned  and 
impaled.  With  not  a  tithe  of  their  sufferings  we  lay  claim 
to  all  their  supports — so  far  as  these  were  derived  from  the 
promises. 

Now,  it  is  not  to  dispute  the  propriety  of  this  conduct 
that  I  place  it  in  this  light.  It  is  highly  proper  that  all 
suffering  Christians,  whatever  be  the  kind  or  degree  of  their 
trials,  should  take  to  themselves  all  the  consolation  which 
is  to  be  found  in  the  word  of  God.  It  is,  however,  equally 
proper  that  they  should  clearly  understand  their  warrant 
and  welcome  to  do  so.  For,  it  is  not  right  because  they  do 
so;  but  because  God  allows  it  to  be  done.  It  will,  there- 
fore, be  best  done  by  those  who  understand  best  the  divine 
warrant  for  comforting  themselves  wdth  the  great  and  pre- 
cious pr^nflses. 

^  Look,  then,  at  the  facts  of  the  case.  These  promises 
were  made,  in  the  first  instance,  to  Christians  whose  lives, 
property,  and  reputation,  were  in  constant  peril  because  of 
their  adherence  to  Christ.  And  yet  these  very  promises 
you  apply  in  your  own  case,  under  the  natural  diseases  and 
decay  of  the  body ;  under  the  losses  and  crosses  incident 
to  the -ordinary  business  of  life;  under  the  vexations  and 
sorrows  inseparable  from  all  human  affairs.  Now,  where 
and  what  is  your  warrant  for  this  appropriation  of  comforts 
which  belonged,  originally,  to  sufferers  who  were  "  a  spec- 
tacle to  the  world  and  to  angels .?"  What  right  have  you  to 
draw  from  the  sacred  fountains  which  were  opened  to  re- 
fresh martyrs  and  confessors  ?  Is  it  the  lunacy  of  self-love 
that  has  betrayed  you  into  a  false  estimate  of  your  own  im- 
portance 1  Or,  is  it  the  love  of  God  that  has  made  "  all 
the  promises,  yea  and  amen,  in  Christ  Jesus,"  to  all  who 
love  the  Lord  Jesus  in  sincerity,  whatever  be  the  kind  or 
the  degree  of  their  afflictions  ? 

This  is  the  fact.  Accordingly  there  is  not  one  well- 
ordered  covenant  for  slight  sufferers ;  and  another  better- 


220  COMMUNION    WITH    GOD 

ordered  covenant  for  great  sufferers  ;  but  one  "  ordered  in 
all  things  and  sure,"  for  both  alike.  For,  however  the 
spirit  of  God  may  have  applied  these  strong  consolations 
more  sensibly  and  fully  to  the  hearts  of  the  martyrs,  than 
he  does  now  to  our  hearts,  it  was  these  consolations  that  he 
did  apply.  As  it  is  the  same  pole-star  in  calm  and  in  storm, 
on  a  wreck  and  in  a  new  ship,  that  the  seaman  steers  his 
course  by — so  it  is  the  same  light  which  shines  from  the 
promises  upon  all  the  afflicted  children  of  God,  whatever 
be  the  difference  of  their  afflictions.  "  Were  it  not  so,  I 
would  have  told  you,''^  is  an  expression  of  the  Saviour,  which 
may  well  and  safely  be  applied  here.  Indeed,  "  were  it 
not  so,"  another  covenant,  or  an  alteration  of  "  the  new  cov- 
enant," would  and  must  have  been  introduced  when  per- 
secution was  withdrawn.  But  the  consolations  were  not 
changed  when  the  sufferings  were  changed.  The  scaffolds 
are  fallen,  but  the  covenant  standeth  fast ;  the  sword  is 
sheathed,  but  the  balm  of  Gilead  is  undiminished  ;  the  flames 
are  quenched,  but  the  prospects  of  future  glory  remain  un- 
diminished. These  assertions  require  to  be  proved  by  facts 
and  confirmed  by  reasons.     Now,  it  is  the  fact — 

1.  That  believers  sustain  the  same  relation  to  God  that 
the  martyrs  did.  Christians  did  not  cease  to  be  the  sons 
and  daughters  of  the  Lord  God  Almighty,  when  they  ceas- 
ed to  be  the  victims  of  persecution.  Adoption  remains  the 
same  under  our  "vine  and  fig-tree,"  where  none  dare  to 
make  us  afraid,  as  under  the  cross,  the  stake,  or  the  axe  of 
martyrdom.  All  who  love  the  Saviour  are  as  much  the 
children  of  God  as  the  noble  army  of  Martyrs. 

This  is  true  even  when  we  are  not  suffering  under  the 
mighty  hand  of  God ;  and  surely  it  does  not  become  untrue 
when  we  arc  under  the  rod.  Chastisement  is  itself  a  proof 
of  sonship.  "//^y  endure  chastisement,^^  says  Paul,  '■'■God 
deaUth  vnth  you  as  with  sons" 

Hero,  then,  is  the  first  ground  which  you  should  take 
in  order  to  communion  with  God,  when  his  fatherly  hand 
presses  heavily  upon  your  spirits.     Its  pressure  does  not 


IN     AFFLICTION.  221 

disprove  your  sonship.  Even  its  long  continuance  does 
not  render  your  adoption  doubtful.  God  does  not  cast  off 
when  he  casts  down.  For  wise  and  gracious  purposes  he 
empoverishes  many  of  the  children  and  chastises  them  all ; 
but  he  never  disinherits  any  of  them.  They  may  think, 
and  even  say,  in  the  day  of  calamity,  "  Surely,  God  would 
not  put  such  a  bitter  cup  into  my  hand,  if  1  were  a  child  of 
his  :  surely,  he  would  not  contend  so  long  and  sharply  if 
he  had  put  me  amongst  his  children  !"  But  all  this  is  a 
mistake.  The  argument  should  run  just  the  other  way.  The 
reverse  is  the  truth,  however  difficult  it  may  be  to  believe 
so  at  first.  It  is  difficult,  I  readily  grant.  But,  look  again, 
and  more  fully,  at  your  own  case.  Before  this  heavy  trial 
came  upon  you,  you  ventured  to  hope  that  you  were  a  child 
of  God.  Why  ?  Your  freedom  from  this  affliction  was  no 
proof  nor  mark  of  sonship.  Neither  the  case,  nor  the 
cpmfort,  of  your  former  circumstances,  gave  you  any  right 
or  reason  for  cherishing  the  hope  of  adoption.  According- 
ly, you  did  not  think  then  that  they  did.  Remember  ;  any 
hope  you  ventured  to  take  up  then,  was  founded  entirely 
upon  the  work  of  Christ  and  the  word  of  God.  And  had 
any  one  asserted  or  insinuated,  at  that  time,  that  you  were 
grounding  the  hope  of  sonship  upon  your  temporal  circum- 
stances, you  would  have  disclaimed,  with  warmth,  the  un- 
worthy imputation,  and  affirmed  that  Christ  was  "  all  in  all" 
in  your  hope.  Well ;  if  easy  circumstances  had,  thus,  no- 
thing to  do  with  the  spirit  of  adoption  when  you  began  to 
«njoy  it — what  have  trying  circumstances  to  do  with  it  ? 
It  does  not  belong  to  prosperity,  as  such  ;  nor  to  adversity, 
as  such.  It  is  the  fruit  of  faith  in  the  atonement ;  and  the 
atonement  is  not  altered  in  its  essence  or  aspect,  however 
the  aspect  of  Providence  may  be  changed.  All  your  real 
ground  for  considering  God  as  your  Father,  and  for  pouring 
out  your  heart  to  him,  remains,  therefore,  the  same  as  ever. 
Or,  if  there  be  any  alteration  in  it,  it  is  for  the  better ;  for 
you  are  warranted  to  put  an  interpretation  upon  your  adver- 
sity, which  prosperity  will  not  often  bear.  The  trials  of 
19* 


222  COMMUNION     WITH     GOD 

believers  are  declared,  by  God,  to  be  proofs  of  sonship ; 
but  their  worldly  prosperity  is  never  explained  in  this  way. 
It  is  the  fact — 

2.  That  the  present  sufferings  of  believers  are  sent  for 
the  same  moral  purpose  as  the  persecution  of  the  martyrs 
was  permitted — by  God. — Now,  as  far  as  that  moral  pur- 
pose terminated  in  themselves,  it  was,  that  '^they  might  he 
partakers  of  his  holiness"  and  thus  conformed  to  the  image 
of  his  Son.  And  as  this  is  the  grand  and  final  purpose  of 
God,  in  the  case  of  all  his  children,  he  has  left  open  to 
them  all,  the  same  "  wells  of  salvation"  that  he  laid  open  to 
the  first  believers.  It  is,  therefore,  because  God  is  pursu- 
ing the  same  end,  now,  as  then,  that  he  continues  to  us  all 
the  original  motives  to  holiness.  It  was  endeared  to  mar- 
tyrs and  confessors  by  the  hope  of  eternal  life — by  the 
promise  of  sufficient  grace — by  the  witness  of  the  Spirit — 
and  by  the  special  presence  of  God.  Without  these,  even 
their  trials  would  not  have  produced  true  holiness.  Neither 
racks  nor  flames  would  have  purified  their  hearts,  apart  from 
the  consolations  of  the  gospel. 

It  is  not,  therefore,  entirely  wonderful,  that  all  the  prom- 
ises remain,  and  hold  equally  good,  in  our  case.  They 
are  wanted — they  are  indispensably  necessary,  if  we  are 
to  be  made  partakers  of  the  divine  holiness.  Nothing  else, 
and  nothing  less,  than  the  "  good  hope  through  grace," 
granted  to  the  first  believers,  is  sufficient  to  sanctify  present 
or  future  believers.  For  sanctification  is  not  the  cflect  of 
affliction,  any  further  than  affliction  sends  us  to  the  Word 
and  Spirit  of  God.  Indeed,  affliction  itself  requires  to  be 
sanctified ;  for  its  natural  influence  and  inevitable  conse- 
quence, when  unaccompanied  by  the  mighty  working  of 
the  holy  Spirit,  are,  to  harden  the  heart.  "  Why  should 
ye  be  stricken  any  more  ?"  said  Isaiah,  to  the  Jewish 
church,  when  they  had  vexed  and  grieved  the  Holy  Spirit : 
"  ye  will  only  rebel  more  and  morcT 

Here,  then,  is  another  ground  upon  which  communion 
with  God  may  be  renewed  in  your  case.     And  it  is  as  solid 


IN     AFFLICTION.  223 

as  holiness  is  essential.  Now,  you  know  and  believe  that 
without  holiness  no  man  shall  see  the  Lord.  And  you  feel 
that  the  strokes  of  his  Providence  are  destroying  both  the 
power  and  the  love  of  sin.  You  may  be  unhinged,  and 
agitated,  and  almost  overwhelmed,  by  your  trials  ;  but  they 
are  not  strengthening  your  besetting  sin,  nor  lessening  your 
hatred  or  fear  of  any  sin.  Whatever  else  be  their  effect 
upon  you,  they  are  not  softening  the  aspect  of  evil,  nor  in- 
creasing your  love  to  the  world.  The  reverse  is  their  ef- 
fect. The  world  seems  to  you  a  poor  portion  for  your  im- 
mortal soul ;  and  all  sin  is  more  than  ever  hateful.  And 
are  you  afraid  to  pray  ?  Do  you  doubt  the  paternal  aspect 
of  your  chastisement  ?  What !  holiness  advancing — and 
you  doubting  your  sonship  ?  Sin  abhorrent — and  you  un- 
christianizing  yourself  ?  Why,  if  any  thing  be  certain,  it 
is  that  a  soul  dying  to  the  world  and  sin  is  alive  unto  God. 
"  In''this  the  children  of  God  are  manifest.'''' 

Consider!  the  salutary  effect  of  your  trials,  in  thus  set- 
ting your  heart  against  all  that  is  hateful  to  God,  proves  far 
more  in  favour  of  your  interest  in  the  love  of  God,  than 
your  trials  prove  against  it.  You  say,  that  you  cannot  re- 
concile them  with  an  interest  in  the  love  of  God.  I  say — 
that  you  cannot  reconcile  their  holy  influence  with  any 
suspicion  of  the  hatred  of  God.  But,  what  is  my  opinion 
on  this  subject  ?  God  himself  says,  that  "  whom  He  loveth 
He  chasteneth,  and  scour geth  every  son  whom  He  rcceivethP 
Mark  :  he  does  not  say  that  whom  he  loveth — he  prospereth 
in  the  world;  but  whom  he  chasteneth.  If,  then,  your  af- 
flictions are  producing  the  same  holy  effect  as  those  pro- 
moted in  the  martyrs,  by  "  great  tribulation,"  you  are  as 
much  warranted,  as  they  were,  to  regard  God  as  your  God 
for  ever  and  ever,  and  to  calculate  upon  Him  being  your 
guide  until  death. 

Now,  it  is  by  believing  this  that  you  must  regain  your 
composure  and  freedom  in  prayer.  You  cannot  regain 
them  in  any  other  way.  For  when  the  spirit  of  prayer  is 
lost,  under  the  mysterious  dispensations  of  Providence,  it 


224  COMMUNION     WITH     GOD 

can  only  be  recovered  by  turning  to  the  mystery  of  grace. 
And,  according  to  that,  things  are  never  wrong,  nor  going 
wrong,  with  the  soul,  when  the  work  of  sanctijication  is 
going  on.  Now,  it  is  not  going  back,  because  you  are  less 
composed,  and  more  shaken  than  usual.  Composure  is,  in- 
deed, a  good  thing  in  its  proper  place,  and  a  good  sign  under 
certain  circumstances  : — but  there  is  something  better,  both 
as  a  sensation  and  a  sign  ;  and  that  is — a  heart  agitated  and 
agonized  by  a  sense  of  the  evil  of  sin.  For  many  things 
may  produce  a  tranquil  mind  ;  whereas  it  is  only  the  Spirit 
of  God  that  can  create  loathing  and  detestation  against  sin. 
Whoever,  therefore,  feels  this,  need  not  be  afraid  to  com- 
mune with  God  as  his  own  Father.  Indeed,  this  itself  is 
communion,  or  fellowship,  in  the  very  feelings  which  are 
the  glory  of  his  character — his  love  of  holiness,  and  his 
hatred  of  sin.     It  is  also  the  fact — 

3.  That  nothing  less  than  the  hope  of  the  glory  which 
is  to  be  revealed,  can  reconcile  or  sooth  the  mind,  even 
under  the  present  trials  of  life  and  godliness.  A  hope  full 
of  immortality  is  as  much  wanted  in  a  sick  chamber,  as  it 
was  in  a  Roman  prison ;  in  poverty,  as  in  spoliation ;  in 
the  loss  of  relations  by  death,  as  in  their  loss  by  martyr- 
dom. Perhaps  more  so,  in  one  sense  :  for,  in  solitary  or 
obscure  affliction,  there  is  no  appeal  made  to  our  passions 
or  senses  ;  whereas,  martyrdom,  by  its  publicity  and  splen- 
dour, was  calculated  to  inspire  no  small  share  of  the  forti- 
tude it  called  for.  But,  however  this  may  be,  one  thing  is 
certain — that  afflictions  have  not  a  sanctifying  influence, 
nor  are  they  well  sustained,  where  there  is  not  a  well- 
founded  hope  of  heaven.  However  strange  it  may  be, 
therefore,  in  theory,  that  our  inferior  suflerings  should  have, 
or  require,  all  the  great  and  precious  promises  which  were 
made  to  the  first  Christians,  it  is  only  the  sober  fact — that 
we  do  require  them  all,  in  order  to  possess  our  souls  in 
patience.  The  prospect  of  heaven  is  not  too  bright,  nor 
the  consolation  that  is  in  Christ  too  strong,  even  in  the  day 
of  our  calamity.     Whatever,  therefore,  might  be   theoroti- 


IN     AFFLICTION.  »  225 

cally  argued,  to  prove  that  less  ought  to  suffice,  now  that 
there  is  far  less  to  suffer,  the  fact  is  that  less  does  not  suf- 
fice. All  experience  demonstrates  that  there  is  neither  true 
holiness,  nor  happiness,  under  calamity,  but  where  there  is 
a  good  hope,  through  grace,  of  an  eternal  weight  of  glory. 
Now,  this  is  the  hope  which  must  inspire  and  sustain  com- 
munion with  God  in  the  furnace.  This  hope  must  be  in 
the  midst  of  every  furnace  of  affliction,  as  the  Son  of  God 
was  in  the  Babylonian  furnace,  if,  like  the  three  Hebrews, 
we  would  be  free  or  unhurt.  Our  own  reasonings  against 
impatience,  and  the  remonstrances  of  others  against  it,  will 
not  prevent  nor  suppress  impatience.  It  has  but  one  effect- 
ual antidote — the  hope  of  eternal  life.  The  prospect  of 
better  days,  and  better  things,  in  this  life,  is  not,  indeed, 
without  its  influence  ;  but  it  is  not  in  praying  for  them  that 
the  soul  gets  into  communion  with  God.  It  is  in  praying 
for  meetness  for  the  inheritance  of  the  saints  in  light,  that 
we  obtain  true  and  transporting  fellowship  with  him. 


No.  XII. 

SACRAMENTAL    COMMUNION    WITH    GOD    AND 
THE    LAMB. 

It  is  pleasing  to  remember  how  many,  in  all  ages  of  the 
Christian  church,  have  celebrated  the  death  of  the  Saviour, 
at  the  sacramental  table.  That  has  never,  indeed,  been  a 
crowded  table,  where  the  guests  have  been  required  to  wear 
the  "  wedding  garment ;"  but  neither  has  it  ever  been  a  for- 
saken table.  Some  were  always  as  constant  at  the  sacra- 
mental supper  on  earth,  as  they  are  now  at  "  the  marriage 
supper  of  the  Lamb"  in  heaven.  Many  of  them  commemo- 
rated his  death  at  the  risk  of  their  own  lives.  The  moun- 
tain tops  vi-^ere  not  too  cold,  nor  the  caves  of  the  wilderness 


226  SACRAMENTAL    COMMUNION 

loo  damp,  nor  the  tombs,  at  midnight,  too  dreary,  for  the 
first  Christians,  when  persecution  drove  them  to  secret  sac- 
raments. They  loved  their  Lord  ;  and,  therefore,  testified 
their  attachment  to  him  at  all  hazards,  and  mider  all  hard- 
ships. 

Such  were  the  primitive  believers.  The  world  then 
thought  them  fools  ;  but,  now,  even  the  world  itself  applauds 
their  heroism ;  and  remember  them  more  than  it  does  the 
guests  who  sat  at  the  banqueting  tables  of  the  Belshazzars 
and  Cesars  of  antiquity.  It  is  pleasing  to  remember  also, 
that  there  are  now  sacramental  tables  in  many  nations, 
where  there  was  only  "  the  tables  of  devils"  then.  When 
the  first  sacraments  were  celebrating  in  Judea  and  Greece, 
human  sacrifices  were  prevalent  and  popular  in  Britain. 
Hallowed  be  the  day,  when  the^r^^  Christian  sacrament 
was  administered  in  the  land  of  our  fathers  I  Its  date  is  un- 
known :  its  place,  unmarked ;  its  form,  uncertain ;  but  its 
"  sweet  influences"  have  been  incalculable.  It  was  the 
"  olive  leaf,"  (whoever  was  the  dove  that  brought  it,)  which 
proved  that  the  flood  of  Druidism  was  subsiding. 

It  is  pleasing  to  remember  also,  that  even  since  we  be- 
came communicants  there  are  many  sacramental  tables, 
where  there  was  only  the  table  of  devils  when  we  were 
born.  There  is  now  one  in  China — a  few  in  India — and 
many  in  Africa  and  the  South  Sea  islands.  And  still  they 
are  multiplying.  They  will  become  as  general  as  the  do- 
mestic table  of  families  ;  until  all  on  earth  vie  with  all  in 
heaven,  in  "  shoving  the  Lord's  death  until  lie  cotne^ 

By  thus  remembering  "  the  dead  in  Christ,"  and  antici- 
pating the  unborn  who  shall  be  given  to  Christ,  we  forget, 
in  some  measure,  or  rather  get  above,  our  own  fears  and 
trials.  We  thus  feel  ourselves  to  be  a  part  of  an  immense 
army — the  first  companies  of  which  are  already  crowned 
with  victory  ;  and  the  last  sure  to  be  more  than  conquerors, 
by  the  blood  of  the  Lamb.  This  identification  is  as  useful 
as  it  is  sublime. 

When  a  Christian  thinks  only  of  himself,  and  for  himself, 


WITH    GOD   AND    THE    LAMB.  227 

te  is  easily  discouraged,  and  feels,  at  times,  ready  to  sink. 
But  when  he  realizes  himself  as  one  of  God's  family,  and 
as  one  of  Christ's  flock,  and  remembers  how  many  are  ar- 
rived at  the  kingdom  in  safety,  and  how  many  are  with  him 
in  the  wilderness — he  sees  and  feels  that  he,  too,  may 
overcome.  Whilst  he  looks  only  at  himself,  he  can  hardly 
conceive  how  everlasting  wings  should  be  over  him,  nor 
how  he  should  be  welcome  to  take  shelter  under  them. 
But  when  he  pauses  to  observe  how  many  they  shelter, 
and  how  widely  they  are  expanded,  he  is  encouraged  to 
creep  under  their  shadow. 

When  he  thinks  only  of  himself,  he  can  hardly  see  how 
the  Saviour  can  take  any  lively  or  constant  interest  in  him  : 
nor  how  the  Holy  Spirit  can  bear  with  his  infirmities  :  but 
when  ^e  pauses  to  consider,  that  the  Great  Shepherd's 
flock  is  too  large  to  be  forsaken  by  a  good  Shepherd,  or  by 
a  Spirit  who  is  "  the  Comforter,"  he  feels  that,  although  the 
weakest  of  the  lambs  of  that  flock,  he  may  yet  share  in  its 
Shepherd's  tenderness,  and  venture  into  all  its  green  pas- 
tures, and  up  to  all  its  still  waters,  in  company. 

When  he  looks  only  at  his  own  trials,  he  can  hardly  see 
how  a  special  Providence  should  take  up  his  case,  or  hold 
up  his  goings  ;  but  when  he  pauses  to  consider  how  many 
have  been  guarded  and  guided,  and  how  many  needs  as  much 
guidance  and  guardianship  as  himself — they  are  both  so 
many,  that  he  feels,  through  all  his  soul,  that  the  God  of 
love  is  not  likely  to  leave  nor  forsake  them  ;  and  thus  he, 
too,  ventures  to  cast  all  his  care  upon  a  wise  and  watchful 
Providence. 

It  is  thus  also  that  he  is  encouraged,  at  times,  to  venture 
to  the  Lord's  table.  His  own  sense  of  unfitness  and  un- 
worthiness  would  keep  him  away,  did  not  others,  who  con- 
fess the  same,  continue  to  come.  Not  that  he  gets  over  his 
fears  by  considering  himself  as  good  as  others  ;  but  he  sees 
that  the  best  of  others  have  had  similar  fears  ;  and  that,  if 
they  had  yielded  to  them,  they  could  never  have  become 
such  exemplary  Christians.     He  sees  that  there  has  been 


228  S  A  C  R  A  INI  E  N  T  A  L    C  O  .^1  M  U  N  I  0  N 

an  intimate  and  inseparable  connexion  between  their  growth 
in  grace  and  their  adherence  to  the  sacrament.  Nor 
can  he  overlook  or  forget  the  fact,  that  all  that  was  bad 
has  become  worse,  in  the  case  of  those  v.'ho  have  given  up 
sacraments.  And  thus  these  examples  bring  him  to  the  point : 
"  I  may  become,"  he  says,  "  an  apostate,  by  keeping  away  ! 
I  may  be  established,  strengthened,  and  settled,  by  keeping 
the  feast." 

These  are  not,  indeed,  the  highest  motives  for  adhering 
to  the  sacramental  table  ;  but  they  are  legitimate  and  pow 
erful  motives.  So  also  is  the  consideration  that  your  ab- 
sence may  injure  or  pain  others.  For,  by  not  communing 
with  your  brethren,  you  may  prevent  or  mar  their  commun- 
ion with  God.  Some  of  them  are  sure  to  miss  you,  and 
almost  as  sure  to  be  affected  by  it.  Those,  especially,  who 
encouraged  and  welcomed  you  to  the  sacrament,  and  those 
also  whom  you  may  have  encouraged  and  welcomed  to  it, 
cannot  but  wonder  at  your  absence.  They  ought,  indeed,  to 
be  better  employed,  than  in  thinking  of  an  absent  friend. 
The  "  Remembrance"  of  the  Saviour  ought  to  engross  and 
Slbsorb  their  whole  soul.  You  feel  and  confess  this.  Do 
not,  then,  divide  or  divert  their  hearts  from  Him,  by  desert- 
ing them.  Remember,  how  you  would  have  felt,  had  you 
missed  them,  when  you  began  to  communicate  !  And  as 
their  presence  has  often  encouraged  you,  let  your  presence 
encourage  them. 

There  is  more  connexion  between  this  tender  regard  to 
the  feelings  of  others,  and  communion  with  God,  than  seems 
generally  understood.  Many  appc^ar  to  imagine,  that  it  is 
of  little  consequence  how  they  feel  towards  their  brethren, 
at  the  sacrament,  if  they  are  not  at  open  variance  with  them. 
That,  it  is  generally  acknowledged,  is  incompatible  with  com- 
munion with  God.  And,  whether  acknowledged  ornot,  it  is 
found  to  be  so,  both  by  offenders  and  the  offended.  Neither  find 
much  comfort  or  benefit  at  the  Lr)rd's  tahle,  whilst  breaches 
or  heart-burnings  are  unhealed.  This  loss  of  enjoyment  is 
not,  however,  confined  to  alienated  brethren.     It  is  sustain- 


WITH    GOD   AND    THE    LAMB.  229 

ed  by  indifferent  brethren  also  ;  and  in  a  degree  that  ougbt 
to  startle  them,  even  if  they  are  unconscious  of  any  studied 
indifference.  For  the  sacrament  is  as  much  intended  to 
promote  the  fellowship  of  the  members  with  each  other,  as 
the  fellowship  of  the  body  with  the  head.  Indeed,  the 
unbroken  bread  is  as  truly  and  intentionally  an  emblem  of  a 
united  church,  as  the  broken  bread  is  of  the  crucified  Sa- 
viour. It  is  not  enough,  therefore,  to  remember  the  Sa- 
viour, when  we  approach  his  table.  He,  of  course,  should 
be  the  supreme  object  of  our  attention ;  but  not  to  the  ex- 
clusion of  the  people.  A  kind  look  or  thought  towards 
them,  will  not  displease  him,  nor  distract  us.  He  is  not 
jealous  of  brotherly  love. 

We  mistake  sadly,  when  we  imagine  that  we  cannot  af- 
ford to  think  at  all  of  the  church  whilst  we  are  at  the  sacra- 
ment. It  is  quite  true,  that  we  have  each  so  much  to  think 
of  in  our  own  case,  that  it  seems  more  than  enough,  at  that 
time.  Our  own  hearts  are  so  unmanageable,  that  any  con- 
cern for  others  appears  both  impossible  and  out  of  place, 
also  when  we  are  trying  to  commune  with  the  Saviour  for 
ourselves.  But,  what  if  a  momentary  identification  of  our- 
selves with  our  brethren  should  be  the  best  way  of  getting 
into  communion  with  the  Saviour  himself? — what  if  he 
who  is  "  not  ashamed  to  call  them  his  brethren,"  hide  his 
face  from  us,  until  we  from  the  heart  acknowledge  them  as 
our  brethren  ?  This  is  not  unlikely.  Paul  evidently  held 
it  to  be  certain,  that,  apart  from  being  "  rooted  and  grounded" 
in  mutual  love,  believers  could  not  "  comprehend  the  heights, 
and  depths,  and  lengths,  and  breadths,  of  the  love  of  Christ." 
Now  these  are 

"  The  sweet  wonders  of  the  cross," 

that  we  desire  to  comprehend  at  the  sacrament.  But,  apart 
from  cherishing  unfeigned  love  to  the  brethren,  we  are  not 
warranted  to  expect  any  enrapturing  or  realizing  manifest- 
ation of  them.  For,  do  remember — it  is  as  much  in  con- 
voL.  I. — 20 


230  SACRAMENTAL    COMMUNION 

nexion  witli  loving  one  another,  as  with  loving  himself,  that 
the  Saviour  promises  to  "  manifest"  himself  to  his  disciples, 

"  This  is  the  law  of  the  house."  And  it  is  as  reasonable 
as  it  is  authoritative.  You  may  have  overlooked  it  hitherto, 
or  not  weighed  it  duly.  But  it  is  intimately  connected  with 
all  the  enjoyment  which  the  sacrament  is  intended  to  pro- 
mote. And  if  you  have  wondered  and  wept,  because  you 
have  often  missed  enjoyment  at  the  sacrament,  it  is  high 
time  for  you  to  search  out  the  secret  causes  of  your  disap- 
pointment. 

Now,  Avhatever  other  causes  may  have  led  to  the  loss 
of  sacramental  enjoyment,  the  want  of  a  really  "  right  spirit" 
towards  your  brethren  is  one  cause  of  it.  You  may  not, 
indeed,  have  behaved  ill,  nor  carried  yourself  haughtily 
towards  any  of  them.  No  one  may  have  any  just  reason 
to  complain  of  your  conduct  or  spirit,  as  a.  communicant. 
You  may  be  able  even  to  appeal  to  all  the  church,  and  to 
the  omniscience  of  its  Head,  that  you  injure  no  one,  and 
despise  no  one.  But  whilst  all  this  is  very  credible  to  you, 
and  more  than  many  can  say  for  themselves,  it  is  not  all 
that  devolves  on  you,  even  if  you  can  add  to  it,  that  you 
never  refuse  to  help  the  poor  of  the  flock.  All  this  may  be 
done,  without  "  charity."  1  Cor.  xiii.  3.  The  real  ques- 
tion to  meet  is.  Do  you  love  the  brethren  for  the  truth's 
sake  which  dwelleth  in  them,  and  because  they  are  your 
brethren  in  Christ  ?  This  is  the  grand  apostolic  reason 
for  mutual  love  in  the  church.  But  if  you  love  only  a  few, 
who  happen  to  please  you  ;  and  thorn,  chiefly,  for  what  they 
are  to  you,  rather  than  for  what  ibey  are  to  Christ,  you 
overlook  this  reason,  and  make  yourself  the  centre  of  your 
aflfections.  You  may  not  intend  to  do  this  ;  but  it  comes 
to  this,  if  you  care  little  or  nothin<{  about  those  who  are  not 
your  personal  friends.  You  ought,  indeed,  to  love  them 
who  love  you  ;  but  you  are  equally  bound  to  love  all  who 
love  the  Saviour. 

It  will  not  do,  in  answer  to  this,  to  say,  that  you  stand  in 
doubt  of  some  of  your  fellow-members.     That  may  be  yoiur 


WITH    GOD    AND    THE    LAMB.  231 

own  fault,  in  regard  to  some  of  them.  They  may  be  as 
worthy  as  yourself,  if  you  knew  them  as  well.  And,  in 
the  case  of  those  who  are  justly  doubted,  it  is  your  duty  to 
be  faithful  to  them.  If  you  know,  to  a  certainty,  that  any 
nominal  brother  is  an  immoral  man,  you  are  as  much  bound 
to  reprove  him,  and  to  bring  the  matter  to  an  issue,  as  he  is 
bound  to  reform. 

It  is  not  necessary,  however,  to  go  into  extreme  cases. 
It  is  not  from  them,  that  the  neglect  of  brotherly  love  springs 
chiefly ;  but  from  our  own  inattention  to  the  law  of  that 
love.  Now,  it  is  exceeding  broad !  It  embraces  all  the 
personal  friends  of  the  Saviour,  just  because  they  are  his 
friends.  You  are  bound  to  love  them,  because  He  has 
lovod  them,  even  as  He  has  loved  us  ;  and  because  they 
love  him  as  sincerely  as  we  do.  Accordingly  we  should 
feel  and  admit  the  force  of  this  claim  at  once,  were  we  to 
sit  down  to  an  African  or  an  Indian  sacramental  table. 
There — it  would  be  impossible  to  look  round  upon  a  circle 
of  brethren  without  a  glow  of  brotherly  love.  Our  hearts 
would  thrill  at  the  sight  of  so  many  brands  plucked  from 
the  burning.  We  could  not  suppress  our  love  to  them,  were 
we  to  try  the  experiment.  We  could  not,  by  any  effort,  go 
into  a  cold  and  jealous  calculation  of  their  comparative  rank 
or  worth.  All  such  considerations  would  be  swallowed  up, 
in  the  high  consciousness  that  we  were  associated  with  the 
friends  of  Jesus. 

And  are  his  friends  less  valuable  at  home  ?  Is  there 
less  of  his  love  displayed  in  a  church  of  British,  than  in  a 
church  of  African,  converts  ?  Why,  then,  do  we  not  take 
an  equal  interest  in  the  former  ? 

The  cases  are  not,  indeed,  parallel,  in  all  respects.  An 
African  church  is  a  novelty  ;  whereas  a  British  church  is 
almost  a  matter  of  course  ;  and  we  are  too  much  the  crea- 
tures of  circumstances,  to  be  as  much  afliected  by  what  is 
common  as  by  what  is  uncommon.  I  readily  grant,  there- 
fore, that  the  appeal  to  our  senses  is  not  the  same  at  home 
that  it  would  be  abroad.     Any  group  of  Africans  or  Indians, 


232  SACRAMENTAL    COMMUNION 

would,  however  engaged,  arrest  our  attention,  and  interest 
our  feelings,  more  than  the  same  number  of  our  own  coun- 
trymen, similarly  engaged.  Africans,  themselves,  would 
be  less  affected  by  the  sight  of  a  British  church  than  we 
should  b]y  the  sight  of  an  African  church  ; — because  they 
must,  of  course,  regard  it  as  only  what  might  be  expected 
in  Britain. 

These  concessions  and  distinctions  ought  to  be  made. 
But,  after  making  them,  thus  fully  and  freely,  there  is  still 
enough  in  the  case,  both  to  warrant  and  point  an  argument, 
on  behalf  of  brotherly  love  at  the  sacrament.  For,  the  ut- 
most that  can  be  said  of  any  church,  in  heathen  lands,  is, 
that  "  Christ  loved  them  and  gave  himself  for  them^  Their 
calling  and  election  cannot  be  carried  higher  than  to  the 
purpose  of  God ;  nor  their  redemption  higher  than  to  the 
blood  of  the  Lamb  ;  nor  their  conversion  higher  than  to  the 
power  of  the  Holy  Spirit ,  and  to  this  height,  the  salvation 
of  all  may  be  equally  traced.  There  is,  therefore,  a  defect 
in  our  spiritual  discernment,  whenever  we  look  upon  real 
converts,  without  real  pleasure.  For  we  should  be  delight- 
ed to  meet  the  lowest  of  them  in  heaven !  There,  we 
shall  never  think  of  what  was  their  rank  on  earth.  It  will 
be  enough  to  secure  our  love,  there,  that  they  were  loved 
by  our  Father,  and  ransomed  by  our  Saviour,  and  sanctified 
by  our  Comforter.  Every  believer  we  meet  around  the 
throne  will  be  hailed  and  held  as  a  "brother,"  because  he  is 
a  "  companion"  in  the  New  Song  of  the  cross.  Why, 
then,  should  it  not  be  so  on  earth  ? 

These  arc  not  the  considerations  which  you  expected  to 
be  most  prominent,  in  an  essay  on  sacramental  communion 
with  God  and  the  Lamb.  You,  most  likely,  began  to  read 
it,  in  the  hope  that  you  might  find  some  touching  hints, 
which  would  warm  or  melt  your  heart  ;  and,  thus,  enable 
you  to  "  go  unto  the  altar  of  God,"  with  more  joy,  or  com- 
posure, than  you  could  command  when  you  were  there  last. 
Are  you,  then,  disappointed  ?  You  ought  not  to  be  so. 
You  have,  indeed,  a  right  to  expect  that  a  minister,  en- 


WITH     GOD    AND     THE     LAMB.  233 

forcing  and  commending  the  sacrament,  should,  also,  bring 
before  you  a  full-orbed  view  of  the  great  sacrifice  which  it 
commemorates.  For  that,  being  the  chief  thing,  ought  to 
have  the  chief  place.  Well ;  just  because  it  is  the  chief 
thing  in  the  sacrament,  I  am  intent  on  placing  you  in  that 
spirit  and  position  towards  it,  which  are  most  in  accordance 
with  it.  Now,  that  accordant  disposition  is,  identification 
with  all  who  are  "  heirs  together,"  with  you,  "  of  the  grace 
of  life  :''  and  that  accordant  spirit  is,  love  to  them  as  joint 
heirs  of  eternal  life. 

It  is,  also,  of  great  importance  to  bear  in  mind  that  mourri' 
ful  sacraments  are  not  useless.  We  are  apt  to  regard 
these  sad  solemnities  as  sad  disappointments ;  and,  if  w« 
miss  enjoyment,  to  imagine  that  we  have  commimicated  in 
vain.     But  this  is  a  mistake. 

Neither  God  nor  the  Lamb  is  dishonoured  or  displeased, 
nor  are  we  unprofited,  when  sacraments  do  nothing  but 
humble  us.  We  have  not  come  to  the  altar  in  vain,  when 
we  retire  from  it  wondering  that  our  blood  was  not  mingled 
with  our  sacrifices.  Nothing  is  useless  that  compels  us  to 
lay  our  "  mouth  in  the  dust,  if  so  be  there  may  be  hope." 
And  this  is  the  effect  of  our  sad  sacraments.  They  lay 
us  in  the  very  dust  of  self-abasement.  And,  what  is  not 
less  valuable,  they  make  us  feel  through  all  our  soul  that 
we  need  more  than  ever  to  be  watchful.  For  now  that  we 
cannot  wring  from  our  hearts  one  warm  emotion,  nor  com- 
mand one  holy  feeling,  how  easily  temptation  might  over- 
come or  trials  overwhelm  us!  The  solemn  questions — 
"  W^here  will  all  this  end  ? — What  has  brought  on  this  utter 
loss  of  first  love  ?" — reveal,  as  they  flash  across  our  dark- 
ened spirit,  dangers  which  make  us  tremble  both  at  and 
for  ourselves.  Now,  although  such  dread  discoveries,  like 
afllictions,  are  not  joyous  but  grievous ;  "  nevertheless, 
afterward,"  they  yield  "  the  peaceful  fruit  of  righteousness 
unto  them  who  are  exercised  by  them." 

When,  however,  there  is  a  succession  of  sad  or  dull 
sacraments  ;  and  when  communicants,  month  after  month, 
20* 


234  SACRAMENTAL     COMMUNION 

retire  from  the  altar  of  God,  weeping  or  trembling;  and 
where  the  desolation  of  soul  cannot  be  traced  to  the  in- 
dulgence of  any  bad  habit  or  temper,  there  must,  in  such  a 
case,  be  some  misapprehension  of  the  gospel.  Now,  the 
most  prevalent  mistake  is  that  faith  cannot  work  empty- 
handed  ;  or  that  the  principle  of  it  can  work  by  love,  even 
when  it  is  not  exercised  in  beheving  the  promises  of  the 
God  of  love.  Faith  is,  indeed,  a  principle  and  a  vital  one; 
but  (like  the  bee's  power  of  making  honey,  which  is  of  no 
use  apart  from  the  nectar  of  flowers)  it  cannot  work  by 
love  without  believing  the  motives  to  love.  The  bee  can- 
not make  honey  from  water,  nor  yet  from  the  dew  of  the 
morning  ;  no  more  can  faith  extract  comfort  or  hope  from 
threatenings,  or  produce  joy  by  dwelling  on  the  dark  side 
of  things.  We  might  just  as  well,  and  more  wisely,  ex- 
pect that  our  power  of  seeing  should  cheer  us  apart  from 
looking ;  or  our  power  of  hearing  apart  from  listejiing,  as 
expect  that  faith  can  comfort  us  apart  from  believing  "  com- 
fortable words."  Why  are  we  so  prone  to  drop  all  our  com- 
mon sense,  when  we  try  to  exercise  or  examine  our  faith  ? 
Whenever  we  want  to  be  cheered  by  the  power  of  seeing, 
we  look  abroad  on  the  landscape  of  nature,  or  on  the 
achievements  of  art,  and  dwell  on  their  beauties  and  sub- 
limities until  the  eye  affects  the  heart.  We  never  gaze  on 
vacancy,  nor  on  deformity,  when  we  wish  to  be  delighted. 
In  like  manner,  when  we  are  intent  on  being  cheered  by 
the  exercise  of  the  power  of  hearing,  we  place  ourselves 
where  the  groves  are  most  melodious,  or  where  the  instru- 
ments are  best  toned,  or  where  the  voices  have  the  most 
compass  and  variety ;  and  thus  we  prepare  to  enjoy  music. 
All  this  is  natural  and  necessary.  And,  is  it  not  equally 
so,  if  we  would  be  cheered  by  faith,  to  believe  cheering 
truths  ?  We  miprht  as  well  roll  our  eyes  in  darkness,  or  fix 
them  upon  a  blank,  and  then  doubt  their  visual  power,  as 
judge  of  our  faith  whilst  we  abstain  from  trying  to  believe 
the  glad  tidings  of  salvation.  This  will  never  do,  at  the 
sacrament,  nor   any   where  else,  that  comfort  is  needed. 


WITH    GOD     AND     THE     LAMB.  235 

Wherever  we  come  to  God,  we  must  believe  that  He  is  the 
rewarder  of  them  that  diligently  seek  Him.  In  no  duty, 
and  at  no  ordinance,  can  we  be  happy  without  believing  the 
promises  with  which  it  is  connected,  and  of  which  it  is  the 
pledge.  And  we  are  as  welcome  to  embrace  them,  as  to 
obey  it.  Now,  we  never  doubt  our  obligation  to  obey  the 
laws  of  God :  but  the  moment  we  look  at  them,  we  feel 
bound  by  their  authority,  and  awed  by  their  sanctions.  So 
we  ought  to  judge  and  feel.  We  are  not,  however,  more 
bound  to  revere  them  than  we  are  welcome  to  believe  the 
gospel.  The  promises  are  just  as  free  to  our  faith,  as  the 
commandments  are  binding  on  our  conscience.  Conscience, 
without  the  law,  would  be  an  insufficient  and  unsafe  guide  ; 
and  Faith,  without  the  promises,  would  be  a  miserable 
comforter,  and  a  fruitless  principle. 


Jl^fi'IlIEMIE^'E"  mE^^HnE^mw^ 


OR    A 

GUIDE  TO  THE  THOUGHTFUL. 


CONTENTS. 


Page. 

I.  The  Duty  of  Realizing  Eternity 237 

II.  The  Possibility  of  Realizing  Eternity       .         .         .         .249 

III.  The  Excuses  for  not  Realizing  Eternity      ....  258 

IV.  Nominal  Faith,  from  not  Realizing  Eternity     .         .         .       270U 
V.  Spiritual  Declension,  from  not  Realizing  Eternity         .         .  280 

VI.  Faith,  believing  unto  Eternal  Life  ....       290 

VII.  Eternity  Realized  in  the  Sanctuary 302 

VIII.  Eternity  Realized  at  the  Sacrament  ....       312 

IX.  Eternity  Realized  at  Home 323 

X.  Christ,  the  Glory  of  Eternity        .  ....  335 


No.  I. 

THE     DUTY    OF    REALIZING     ETERNITY. 

Did  "  Eternal  Life"  suggest  to  us  only  the  bare  idea  of 
living  for  ever  in  an  unknown  world,  it  would  deserve  more 
attention  than  is  usually  given  to  heaven  or  hell.  "  The  life 
that  now  is,"  is  such  an  evanescent  vapour,  that  "  everlast- 
ing life,"  however  deeply  veiled  as  to  its  place  or  employ- 
ments, is  a  contrast  which  ought  to  arrest  and  rivet  supreme 

237 


238  THE     DUTY    OP 

attention.  The  bare  fact  of  immortality  is  fraught  with 
instruction  and  warning.  It  has  a  commanding  character, 
independent  of  its  revealed  character.  For,  as  life  involves 
thought,  and  feeling,  and  action ;  an  eternity  of  thinking, 
an  eternity  of  feeling,  an  eternity  of  acting,  is  a  solemn 
consideration !  It  could  not  be  weighed  without  profit. 
Who  would  not  be  improved,  both  in  character  and  spirit, 
by  arguing  thus  : — "  I  must  think  for  ever ;  would  an  eter- 
nal train  of  my  usual  thoughts  be  either  worthy  of  me,  or 
useful  to  me  ?  I  must/eeZ  for  ever  ;  would  an  eternal  reign 
of  my  present  spirit  and  desires  please  me  1  I  must  act 
for  ever  ;  would  an  eternal  course  of  my  habitual  conduct 
bring  happiness,  or  even  bear  reflection  ?" 

We  could  not  bring  our  tastes  and  tempers  to  this  test, 
without  improving  both.  The  moment  we  realize  an  eter- 
nity of  any  vice  or  folly,  we  are  shocked.  To  be  eternally 
passionate,  or  eternally  sensual,  or  eternally  covetous,  or 
eternally  capricious,  is  a  state  of  being  which  must  be  appal- 
ling and  repulsive  even  to  the  victims  of  these  vices.  Thus, 
independent  of  all  the  light  shed  upon  immortality  by  the 
gospel,  immortality  itself  sheds  strong  and  steady  lights 
upon  our  personal  interests  and  relative  duties.  Life  in- 
volves, also,  society,  intercourse,  and  their  natural  results. 
Would,  then,  an  eternity  of  the  terms  and  temper  of  our 
present  domestic  and  social  life  be  altogether  agreeable  to 
us?  Should  we  like  to  "live  for  ever,"  just  as  we  now 
"  live  together"  at  home  ?  Would  an  eternity  of  our  pres- 
ent feelings  towards  certain  persons  be  cither  creditable  or 
useful  to  us  ?  Should  we  be  quite  satisfied  to  obtain  and 
deserve,  for  ever,  no  more  respect  than  we  now  enjoy  ? 
Would  an  immortality  of  our  present  relative  condition 
please  us  1  Here,  again,  by  realizing  an  eternity  of  social 
life,  we  catch  glimpses  both  of  duty  and  interest,  which 
compel  "great  searchings  of  heart,"  and  suggest  many  val- 
uable improvements  of  character. 

It  would,  then,  be  equally  unwise  and  criminal,  not  to 
realize  even  a  veiled  eternity.     It  would  bo  both  moral  and 


REAL  ZING    ETERNITY.  239 

mental  weakness  not  to  judge  of  our  present  character  and 
pursuits — of  our  present  spirit  and  habits — by  their  fitness 
and  likelihood  to  please  and  profit  us  in  a  "  world  without 
end."  What  attention,  then,  is  due  to  an  unveiled  and  illu- 
minated immortality ;  and,  what  an  influence  it  might  have 
over  us,  if  habitually  realized  as  it  is  revealed  1  It  comes 
before  us,  in  the  gospel,  as  everlasting  happiness  in  heaven, 
or  as  everlasting  misery  in  hell ;  as  an  eternity  in  the  pres- 
ence of  God,  and  in  the  fellowship  of  all  the  godlike  spirits 
in  the  universe  ;  or,  as  an  eternity  in  the  presence  of  "  the 
devil  and  his  angels,"  and  in  the  society  of  all  the  impious 
and  impure.  Extremes,  thus  infinite  and  endless,  deservel 
ail  the  attention  which  law  or  gospel  demands  for  them. 
Habitual  remembrance  of  them  would  be  imperative  duty, 
if  neither  law  nor  gospel  enforced  it.  Such  an  eternity 
makes  many  laws  for  itself.  It  is  itself  a  law,  and  felt  to 
be  so  when  it  is  realized.  For  as  Sinai  awed  the  thou- 
sands of  Israel,  by  its  solemn  aspect,  long  before  the  trum- 
pet sounded,  so  the  very  aspect  of  eternal  bliss  or  wo  ap- 
peals lo  the  understanding  and  the  conscience,  by  its  own 
solemnity. 

Now  we  blame  as  well  as  pity,  those  who  banish  the 
consideration  of  this  unveiled  immortality.  We  are  thank- 
ful that  we  are  not  so  mentally  weak,  as  to  be  incapable  of 
reflecting  on  the  things  which  are  "  unseen  and  eternal ;" 
nor  so  mortally  infatuated  as  to  be  utterly  unaflected  by 
them.  We  had  rather  lose  one  of  our  bodily  senses,  than 
be  wholly  insensible  to  the  glories  and  solemnities  of  the 
world  to  come.  We  see  clearly,  and  often  feel  deeply, 
that  w^ithout  some  just  sense  of  them,  there  cannot  be  a 
due  appreciation  of  the  claims  of  the  law  or  the  gospel,  nor 
of  the  duties  of  life  and  godliness.  These  have  all  such 
an  express  reference  to  eternity,  that  if  we  were  to  think 
and  act  without  any  pointed  reference  to  it,  we  durst  not 
give  ourselves  credit  either  for  believing  or  for  understand- 
ing truth  and  duty. 

This  is  well,  so  far.     It  is,  however,  one  thing  to  be 


240  THE     DUTY     OF 

unable  or  unwilling  to  forget  eternity  ;  and  another,  to  cul- 
tivate the  remembrance  of  it.  We  may  not  evade  the  pros- 
pect, when  it  is  forced  upon  us  by  death  in  the  family,  or 
by  appeals  in  the  sanctuary  ;  but,  do  we  invite  it,  for  its 
own  sake,  when  there  is  neither  accident  nor  excitement 
to  constrain  our  attention  ?  Is  the  contemplation  of  "  the 
powers  of  the  world  to  come,"  any  part  of  our  devotional 
and  meditative  habits  ?  We  voluntarily  and  conscientiously 
give  some  set  time  to  prayer,  and  to  self-examination,  and 
to  the  study  of  the  great  principles  of  truth  and  duty.  We 
do  not  allow  our  sense  of  them  to  depend  entirely  upon 
accident  or  excitement.  We  require,  in  order  to  keep  up 
a  good  hope  through  grace,  to  examine  and  review  the 
grounds  of  hope  ;  and,  in  order  to  maintain  a  good  con- 
science towards  God  and  man,  we  require  to  confront 
conscience,  from  time  to  time,  with  the  claims  of  both. 
r^,-l\.  But,  do  we  require,  for  pwn  satisfaction  and  improvement, 
to  set  apart  some  time  for  the  deliberate  and  distinct  con- 
sideration of  the  claims  of  eternal  life?  They  are,  in- 
deed, mixed  up  in  our  minds  with  the  other  claims  of 
religion  and  morality,  and  give  some  degree  of  force 
to  both :  but  if  they  are  rather  admitted  than  meditated, 
rather  taken  for  granted  than  weighed,  we  do  not  give 
that  '*  good  need"  to  them  which  they  demand  and  deserve. 
The  prospects  of  eternal  life  are  revealed  to  us,  that  we 
may  employ  them  to  counterbalance  the  pressure  of  the 
sufferings  and  sorrows  of"  the  life  which  now  is."  They 
were  habitually  employed  for  this  purpose,  by  those  who 
first  believed  that  gospel  which  illuminated  life  and  immor- 
tality. They  did  more  than  calculate,  that  all  their  trials 
were  working  together  '*  for  good."  They  reckoned,  also, 
that  their  "  aflliclion"  was  working  for  them  "  a  far  more 
exceeding  and  eternal  weight  of  glory."  They  realized 
heaven  so  as  to  be  relieved  and  refreshed  by  the  anticipa 
lions  of  it.  But  what  in  general,  is  our  resource  under 
suffering  and  sorrow?  Alas!  not  this  direct  and  distinct 
reckoning,  that  they  are  not  "  worthy  to  be  compared  with 


REALIZING    ETERNITY.  241 

the  glory  which  shall  be  revealed  in  us  ;"  but  reckoning, 
that  good  will  come  out  of  them,  and  that  we  shall  see 
better  days  "  in  the  land  of  the  living."  Better  days 
in  the  land  of  the  dead,  are  not  much  desired  by  us  whilst 
we  have  any  rational  hope  of  life.  I  mean — -that  it  is  not 
by  them,  chiefly,  we  balance  our  troubles,  whilst  death  does 
not  seem  inevitable  nor  at  hand.  There  is,  in  fact,  some- 
thing dearer  to  us,  at  present,  than  heaven.  We  have 
no  wish  to  be  soon  there,  however  much  we  desire  or 
hope  to  be  found  there  at  last.  Accordingly,  the  hope 
of  glory  is  not  often  our  chief  consolation  in  the  day  of 
calamity. 

Now  this  proves  more,  than  that  our  personal  hope  is 
often  low  and  fluctuating.  It  proves,  also,  that  we  are  not 
very  familiar  with  the  objects  of  future  happiness.  Indeed, 
one  great  cause  of  that  lowness  and  changeableness  of  our 
hope  of  heaven  is,  our  inattention  to  heaven  itself.  It  is 
not  often  nor  minutely  contemplated,  exactly  as  it  is  set 
before  us  in  the  gospel.  We  do  not  overlook  eternal  things, 
but  we  do  not  "  look  at^^  them  one  by  one,  nor  as  a  whole, 
sufficiently.  We  have  no  low  nor  foolish  notions  of  heav- 
en, but  we  have  many  vague,  and  not  a  few  uninfluential, 
ideas  of  it.  The  reason  is  obvious  :  we  have  not  taken  the 
same  time  or  care  to  acquaint  ourselves  with  it,  that  we 
have  taken  to  form  and  mature  our  acquaintance  in  the  way 
which  leads  to  it.  Our  knowledge  of  "  the  way  that  leadeth 
to  everlasting  life"  is  not,  indeed,  perfect ;  but  still,  it  is  in- 
fluential. We  prize  our  deliberate  views  and  convictions 
of  the  glory  and  grace  of  the  atonement;  we  can  make 
something  of  them,  and  sometimes  much,  in  the  day  of 
trouble ;  and  they  tell  well  upon  our  character  and  spirit 
even  in  the  day  of  prosperity.  So  does  our  general  idea 
of  heaven  ;  but  not  so  the  details  of  our  knowledge  of  it ; 
they  have  not  much  influence.  How  could  they?  The 
greater  part  of  them  have  no  fixed  nor  definite  character  or 
form  in  our  minds.  Were  our  views  of  the  doctrine  of 
grace  as  vague  as  many  of  our  opinions  about  glory  are,  we 

VOL.  I.— 21 


242  THEDUTYOP 

should  feel  ashamed  of  ourselves,  and  be  far  more  uncom- 
fortable than  we  are  now. 

Whatever  scrutiny  or  remonstrance  breathes  in  these  re- 
marks, is  not  uncalled  for  by  the  usual  state  of  our  minds. 
Slight  views  of  eternal  life,  are  one  great  cause  of  our 
slight  hold  on  the  hope  of  salvation.  A  deeper  acquaint- 
ance with  immortality,  in  all  its  revealed  forms,  would  com- 
pel us  to  take  and  keep  a  firmer  grasp  of  the  cross.  Were 
we  daily  "  looking  for  the  mercy  of  our  Lord  Jesus  Christ 
unto  eternal  life.,^''  as  well  as  unto  a  holy  and  tranquil  life, 
both  our  faith  and  prayers  would  breathe  another  spirit  than 
they  usually  do  ;  and  thus  we  should  soon  have  no  occasion 
for  the  common  complaint,  that  our  hope  of  heaven  is  too 
weak  to  weigh  much  against  the  trials  of  life.  Lot  eternity 
dictate  the  measure  of  faith  in  Christ  which  its  own  solem- 
nity deserves  ;  anl  this  will  lead  to  such  solid  building,  and 
to  such  steady  resting  upon  the  Rock  of  Ages,  that  we  shall 
soon  have  a  hope  so  full  of  immortality,  that,  like  the  first 
believers,  we  shall  be  able  to  counterbalance  the  things 
which  are  seen  and  temporal,  by  the  things  which  are  un- 
seen and  eternal.  And,  surely,  if  the  martyrs  could  do  so, 
we  well  may,  under  our  lighter  afflictions.  It  is,  therefore, 
our  own  interest  to  acquire  such  a  hold  upon  heaven,  as 
shall  really  be  oiuse  to  us  in  the  time  of  trouble.  Nothing 
aggravates  trouble  so  much  as  a  dark  cloud  on  our  eternal 
prospects.  We  have  need  of  all  our  time  and  strength  for 
the  due  exercise  of  patience  and  resignation  in  the  evil  day, 
instead  of  having  to  ch;ar  up,  then,  the  agitating  question 
of  personal  safety.  Let  us  not,  therefore,  believe  the  gos- 
pel so  vaguely  and  vapidly  now,  nor  obey  the  law  so  par- 
tially now,  that  when  the  dark  side  of  tlie  pillar  of  time 
turns  upon  us,  the  dark  side  of  the  pillar  of  eternity  should 
turn  upon  us  too.  There  is  no  occasion  for  such  a  conjunc- 
tion, as  the  fear  of  "  the  blackness  of  darkness,"  blending 
with  the  clouds  of  temporal  calamity. 

We  owe  it  also  unto  otlu^rs  to  cultivate  such  a  hope  of 
glory,  as  shall  have  a  visible  influence  upon  our  spirits,  as 


REALIZING     ETERNITY.  243 

well  as  upon  our  character ;  and  upon  our  conversation^  as 
well  as  our  conduct.  Without  worth  of  character,  no  testi- 
mony to  the  worth  of  religion  will  have  any  weight  in  our 
family,  or  social  circle.  It  is  not  enough,  however,  that 
both  our  careless  and  undecided  friends  should  be  con- 
strained, by  our  general  character,  to  conclude,  "that  if 
any  get  to  heaven  we  shall."  Our  words,  as  well  as  our 
works,  should  aid  in  lodging  this  conviction  in  their  minds. 
We  ought  to  speak  of  our  "inheritance  with  the  saints  in 
light,"  as  well  as  cultivate  meetness  for  it.  The  first  be- 
lievers not  only  thought  of  heaven,  and  prepared  for  it,  they 
also  avowed  and  proclaimed  the  pleasure  they  found  in 
looking  forward  to  it  as  rest  from  their  labours,  and  as  free- 
dom from  their  imperfections.  They  did  not  leave  the  in- 
ference of  their  safety  to  be  drawn  by  others  only;  they 
drew  it  themselves  also.  They  were  wise  enough,  and 
manly  enough,  to  judge,  that  a  character  and  spirit  which 
even  the  enemies  of  the  gospel  could  not  quote  against  the 
gospel,  warranted  them  to  consider  themselves  as  heirs  of 
eternal  life.  They  did  not,  therefore,  allow  it  to  depend 
on  the  candour  and  conscience  of  others,  whether  this  con- 
clusion should  be  drawn  or  not.  It  was  too  important  to 
be  left  to  public  caprice  ;  and,  therefore,  they  drew  it  them- 
selves. "  We,  according  to  his  promise,  look  for  new 
heavens  and  a  new  earth."  "  We  know  that  if  our  earthly 
house  of  this  tabernacle  were  dissolved,  we  have  a  building 
of  God,  a  house  not  made  with  hands,  eternal  in  the  heav- 
ens." "  As  we  have  borne  the  image  of  the  earthly,  we 
shall  also  bear  the  image  of  the  heavenly."  This  was 
speaking  out,  on  the  subject  of  Christian  hope  !  Yes  ;  and 
yet  it  was  saying  no  more  than  God  had  warranted.  It  is 
only  what  all  may  and  ought  to  avow,  who  are  relying  on 
Christ  for  a  holy  salvation. 

Now  such  a  testimony,  when  not  contradicted  by  the 
character  of  the  witness,  could  not  fail  to  commend  the 
gospel.  It  would  bring  our  relations  and  friends  to  the 
point.     "  Here,"  they  must  confess,  "  is  present  happiness, 


244  THE    DUTY    OP 

as  well  as  a  strong  probability  of  eternal  happiness." 
Whereas,  if  they  see  us  in  almost  as  much  doubt  of  our 
future  safety,  as  they  are  of  their  own,  they  will  question 
the  use  of  faith,  even  if  they  do  not  question  the  use  of 
good  works. 

Silence  is,  however,  so  common  on  this  subject,  and  so 
characteristic  of  those  who  are  most  warranted  to  speak  out, 
that  it  seems  almost  a  virtue.  We  are  so  accustomed  to 
entire  silence,  or  to  vague  expressions,  about  personal  ex- 
pectations of  heaven,  that  we  should  be  almost  startled  to 
hear  even  the  best  of  our  pious  friends,  who  are  neither  old 
nor  infirm,  avow  their  pleasure  or  hope.  There  must  be 
very  eminent  piety,  indeed,  in  the  person  to  whom  we  could 
listen,  with  common  patience,  whilst  he  was  speaking  of 
his  own  crown  or  mansion  of  glory.  Free  and  firm  state- 
ments of  this  kind,  we  should  be  ready  to  set  down  as 
ominous  symptoms  of  a  speedy  death,  whatever  were  the 
health,  or  the  age,  or  the  holiness  of  the  person  who  made 
them.  And,  in  our  own  case,  and  that  of  Christians  in 
general,  we  should  consider  it  a  want  both  of  humility  and 
prudence,  to  utter  our  hopes  of  heaven,  even  when  they 
are  strongest.  We  act  thus  towards  our  nearest  friends ; 
and  in  the  case  of  the  world,  we  are  induced  to  say,  that  it 
would  be  casting  "pearls  before  swine,"  to  tell  worldly  men 
that  we  had  found  a  title  to  heaven  in  the  atonement  of 
Christ.  We  almost  give  our  "  consent,"  that  he  who  says 
so  to  others,  before  he  is  upon  his  death-bed,  should  be 
laughed  at  by  the  world,  and  suspected  by  the  church. 

This  is  the  current  feeling  on  the  subject  now.  It  was 
not  so  in  the  olden  time.  Then,  Christians  comforted  one 
another  under  their  trials,  with  the  comfortable  words,  "  we 
shall  meet  the  Lord  in  the  air,  and  so  shall  we  be  ever  with 
the  Lord."  And  are  we  vns(^r  or  luunhlcr  than  the  first  be- 
lievers ?  Were  they  presumptuous  or  impudent  when  they 
said,  in  the  presence  of  the  world,  "  Blessed  be  the  God 
and  Father  of  our  Lord  Jesus  Christ,  who,  according  to  his 
abundant  mercy,  hath  begotten  us  again  unto  a  lively  hope, 


REALIZING     ETERNITY.  245 

by  the  resurrection  of  Jesus  Christ  from  the  dead,  to  an 
inheritance  incorruptible,  and  undefiled,  and  that  fadeth  not 
away."  Is  this  language,  or  our  silence,  most  in  harmony 
with  the  spirit  of  the  gospel  ?  Was  their  triumph,  or  is  our 
timidity,  the  best  way  of  commending  the  gospel  ?  One 
thing  is  certain — their  rejoicing  in  Christ  Jesus,  and  in  the 
hope  of  eternal  life,  had  a  mighty  influence,  both  in  ex- 
plaining and  endearing  the  gospel  to  their  friends  and  neigh- 
bours. Even  their  persecutors  often  dropped  the  sword,  the 
axe,  and  the  torch  of  martyrdom,  overcome  by  the  holy 
triumphs  of  the  martyrs,  and  suffered  with  the  victims  they 
came  to  destroy. 

But  these  were  extraordinary  times !  True.  The  gospel 
is,  however,  the  same  in  our  "  day"  that  it  was  in  their 
^'  yesterday."  And,  whatever  higher  degree  of  glory  we 
are  willing  to  concede  to  the  martyrs  and  confessors,  we 
expect  the  same  heaven.  And  shall  we  be  ashamed  to  say 
so?  Can  our  silence  do  good  .to  ourselves,  or  to  any  one 
else  ?  It  will  certainly  never  be  an  effectual  check  to  An- 
tinomian  boasting.  If  that  "  unclean  spirit"  is  ever  cast 
o«t  of  the  churches,  it  must  be  by  the  prevalence  of  a  hope 
as  full  of  immortality  as  of  good  fruits.  For,  until  believers 
acquire  and  acknowledge  as  much  comfort  from  the  revealed 
wall  of  God,  as  Antinomianism  pretends  to  furnish  from  the 
secret  purposes  of  God,  the  boasting  will  go  on.  The  si- 
lence of  believers,  has,  in  fact,  done  much  to  create  and 
keep  up  the  loquacity  of  that  system.  Its  high  pretensions 
are  just  the  opposite  extreme  of  our  silent  and  low  hopes. 
Antinomians  say  too  much,  and  we  say  too  little  ;  and  thus 
we  furnish  them,  however  unintentionally,  with  plausible 
arguments  against  our  principles. 

This  is  not  a  light  matter.  We  are  held  up  as  being 
legalists,  and  unbelievers,  and  traitors  to  the  doctrines  of 
grace.  Now,  any  one  can  despise  this  charge ;  or,  by 
argument,  refute  it.  It  has  often  been  triumphantly  refuted 
and  retorted.  But,  still  it  is  kept  up.  And,  0  say  not, 
"  What  does  it  signify .?"  nor,  "  Who  cares  what  Antinomians 
21* 


246  THE     DUTY    OF 

think  or  say  V  It  does  signify  and  we  ought  to  care  ;  for 
the  charge  is  founded,  chiefly,  upon  our  acknowledgments 
of  doubt,  and  suspense,  and  want  of  comfort  in  religion ; 
and  it  is  not  answered  when  we  say,  that  our  low  hopes 
prove  nothing  against  our  principles.  This  is,  indeed,  true  ; 
but  it  is  equally  true,  that  our  low  hopes,  and  frequent  lack 
of  comfort,  prove  that  we,  in  some  way  or  degree,  ?msap- 
prehend  the  gospel.  For,  as  Christ  expressly  and  repeat- 
edly declares,  that  whosoever  believeth  on  him  "  hath  ever- 
lasting life,  and  shall  never  perish ;"  and,  as  we  profess  to 
believe  on  him,  it  is  not  altogether  unfair  nor  unnatural,  if 
those  who  see  little  and  hear  less  of  our  hope  of  salvation, 
should  both  think  and  say  that  unbelief  lies  at  the  bottom  of 
our  silence  and  suspense.  Indeed,  they  are  right  when 
they  say  so.  They  are  far  wrong  when  they  call  us  unbe- 
lievers; but  not  very  far  from  the  truth  when  they  charge 
us  with  unbelief.  We  certainly  do  not  believe  that  we 
"  have  eternal  life,"  when  we  indulge  or  express  the  fear 
of  perishing.  That  hope,  and  this  fear,  are  incompatible. 
The  fear  is  not,  indeed,  incompatible  with  faith,  but  it  is  so 
with  hope.  John  recognised,  as  true  believers,  those  who 
did  not  know,  for  a  time,  that  they  had  eternal  life ;  and 
wrote  to  them  that  they  "  might  knovj"  that  they  had  it. 
(1  John  V.  13.)  But  he  also  told  them,  that  "  He  that  feareth 
is  not  made  perfect  in  love  ;  for  perfect  love  castcih  out 
(tormenting)  fear. 

For  our  own  sake,  therefore,  and  for  the  sake  of  others, 
and  "-for  the  truth's  sake,"  we  are  solemnly  bound  to  cherish 
such  a  hope  of  (Ucrnal  life,  as  shall  endear  the  gospel  to 
ourselves,  and  commend  it  to  others.  But  this  we  never 
can  do,  if  eternal  life  itself  is  not  made  the  subject  of  delib- 
erate and  devotional  contemplation.  Hasty,  and  partial, 
and  occasional  glances  at  heaven,  will  not  call  forth  strong 
faith,  nor  bring  into  our  minds  such  "  forms  of  glory"  as  can 
delight  the  soul  in  the  day  of  adversity,  or  sanctify  it  in  the 
day  of  prosperity.  Eternal  tilings  are  unseen  things,  and 
therefore  not  to  be  apprehended  or  appreciated  at  once. 


RE  ALIZING    ETERNITY.  247 

Like  the  invisible  God,  they  require  us  to  "  acquaint"  our- 
selves with  them.  Now,  as  it  is  not  the  vague  notion  of 
God  which  is  afloat  in  the  world  that  awes  or  animates  our 
minds  ;  but  his  revealed  character  as  God  in  Christ,  and 
that,  viewed  in  all  its  attributes,  and  often  thought  of ;  so  it 
is  not  the  vague  and  meager  notion  of  heaven  as  a  mere 
place  of  safety  from  hell,  that  can  either  set  our  affections 
on  things  above,  or  sooth  us  amidst  the  vicissitudes  of 
things  on  the  earth.  We  must  meditate  on  the  character 
of  eternity,  as  we  have  on  the  character  of  God — deeply, 
frequently,  voluntarily,  if  we  would  be  influenced  by  it.  In 
like  manner,  whatever  love  we  have  to  an  unseen  Saviour 
was  not  derived,  and  is  not  sustained,  from  the  superficial 
ideas  of  him  which  are  afloat  in  the  world  ;  but  from  views 
of  his  person  and  work,  drawn  from  the  divine  testimony, 
compared  with  the  opinions  of  the  apostles  and  prophets, 
harmonized  with  the  songs  of  angels  and  glorified  spirits, 
and  often  tried  upon  the  fears  of  our  heart  and  the  wounds 
of  our  spirit.  Thus,  whatever  just  and  influential  estimate 
we  have  formed  of  the  divine  favour,  it  has  been  drawn 
from  scriptural  views  of  the  divine  character.  We  set  our- 
selves to  think  over  the  character  of  God  and  the  Lamb, 
until  it  awake  some  hope,  and  even  some  love,  in  our  minds. 
And  now,  we  can  set  our  knowledge  of  God  and  the  Lamb 
against  many  of  our  fears  and  trials,  with  some  success. 
Our  convictions  of  the  divine  wisdom  enable  us  to  wait  with 
some  patience  for  "  the  end  of  the  Lord"  in  our  trials.  And 
our  convictions  of  the  divme  faithfulness,  keep  the  promises 
precious  in  our  estimation,  even  whilst  they  are  not  much 
fulfilled  in  our  experience. 

Here,  then,  there  is  some  happy  accordance  between  the 
influence  which  the  invisible  God  and  Saviour  have  over  us, 
and  that  influence  which  they  had  over  the  first  believers. 
We  are,  in  some  measure,  of  "  one  spirit"  with  them,  in 
bringing  the  perfections  of  God  and  the  blood  of  the  Lamb 
to  bear  upon  our  hopes  and  fears.  "Why,  then,  are  we  so 
unlike  them,  in  reckoning  that  the  sufferings  of  the  present 


248  THE   DUTY   OP 

time,  are  not  worthy  to  be  compared  with  the  glory  which 
shall  be  revealed  in  us  !  It  is  needless  to  ask,  why  do  we 
not  "desire  to  depart  and  be  with  Christ ;"  nor,  why  do  we 
not  "  groan,  earnestly  desiring  to  be  clothed  upon  with  our 
house  which  is  from  heaven  ?"  These  questions  would  be 
evaded.  But  let  us  not  evade  the  inquiry.  Why  have  eter- 
nal things  such  a  small  place  in  our  thoughts  and  conversa- 
tion, compared  to  the  "large  room"  they  had  in  the  hearts 
of  the  primitive  Christians  ?  We  not  only  can  make  but 
little  practical  use  of  the  prospects  of  heaven,  but  we  are 
ashamed  to  speak,  and  often  afraid  to  think  of  them.  We 
might  really  dislike  heaven,  so  little  do  we  say  about  it ;  or 
be  indifferent  to  it,  so  seldom  do  we  set  ourselves  to  con- 
template it. 

It  is  not,  therefore,  at  all  wonderful,  however  lamentable 
it  may  be,  that  we  turn  more  to  the  doctrine  of  a  present 
Providence  for  relief  in  the  day  of  trouble,  than  to  the  doc- 
trine of  future  glory.     We  have  studied  the  former  more 
than  the  latter.     Had  Providence  engaged  our  attention  as 
seldom   and  sprightly  as  eternity  has  done,  it  would  have 
had  even  less  place  in  our  minds,  and  less  influence  on  our 
character,  thai  eternity  has.     What,  then,  would  be  the 
happy  effect  of  giving,  for  a  time,  such  "  good  heed"  to  the 
whole  doctrine  of  immortality,  as  we  have  done  to  the  doc- 
trines of  grace  and  Providence  ?     The  revelation  of  glory 
will  not  divert  us  from  the  revelation  of  grace.     The  time 
required  in  order  to  our  being  well  informed  concerning  the 
crown,  will  not  render  us  ill  affected  towards  the  cross.    A 
fair  and  full  view  of  heaven  will  not  cut  any  of  the  natural 
links  of  life,  nor  alienate  the  heart  from  any  of  the  duties  of 
life  or  godliness.     These  may  be  eclipsed  for  a  moment  by 
the  superior  claims  of  eternity ;  but,  as  in  the  eclipses  of 
the  sun  and  moon,  the  shadows  will  soon  pass  off,  and  leave 
all  proper  things  in  ihv'ix  proper  place  and  power.     There 
is  no  danger  of  so  realizing  the  things  which  are  unseen  and 
eternal,  as  to  forget  the  thinj^s  which  are  seen  and  temporal. 
The  danger  is,  lest  the  latter  displace  the  former. 


REALIZING   ETERNITY.  249 


No.  II. 

T  H  E    PO  S  S  I  B  IL  IT  Y    OF     REALIZING     ETERNITY. 

Whilst  there  is  nothing  we  more  readily  admit  than  the 
grandeur  and  solemnity  of  eternity,  there  is,  perhaps,  no- 
thing we  are  more  reluctant  to  dwell  on.  We  have,  indeed, 
no  objection  to  hear,  occasionally,  a  well-timed  and  solemn- 
toned  appeal  to  the  awful  realities  of  eternity ;  nor  do  we 
dislike  those  occasional  gleams  of  it  which  flash  upon  our 
spirit  when  we  are  communing  with  God  in  prayer.  We 
are  rather  pleased,  than  otherwise,  to  feel  now  and  then 
that  we  are  not  insensible  to  the  glories  of  heaven  and  the 
terrors  of  hell,  nor  altogether  uninfluenced  by  them.  In- 
deed, we  should  question  both  the  soundness  and  the  sin- 
cerity of  our  faith,  if  it  never  realized  "  the  things  which 
are  unseen  and  eternal,"  except  when  it  was  forced  to  do 
so  by  ministerial  and  providential  appeals.  Thus  the  sub- 
ject has  upon  its  side  our  understanding  entirely,  and  our 
conscience  too  in  no  small  degree. 

This  is,-  so  far,  well.  It  does  not,  however,  disprove  the 
assertion,  that  we  are  reluctant  to  cultivate  realizing  views 
of  eternity.  Deliberate  efforts  to  acquire  and  keep  up  a 
solemn  sense  of  eternal  things  are  very  rare  :  and  not  at  all 
equal,  in  kind  or  degree,  to  the  efforts  we  make  in  order  to 
maintain  a  becoming  sense  of  the  evil  of  sin  and  the  neces- 
sity of  holiness.  We  are  even  afraid  of  an  abiding  impres- 
sion of  eternity ;  and  suspect,  if  not  believe,  that  it  would 
throw  a  gloom  over  life,  and  turn  seriousness  into  sadness. 
This  lurking  suspicion  is  not  dislodged,  nor  much  shaken, 
even  when  we  remember  that  it  is  on  the  bright  side  of  the 
pillar  of  eternity  we  are  invited  to  dwell.  We  cannot  for- 
get that  it  has  a  dark  side  too,  which  may  turn  upon  us 
oftener  than  we  should  like.  And  we  see,  with  some  clear- 
ness, that  even  on  its  bright  side,  we  should  be  kept  more 


250  THE    POSSIBILITY    OF 

familiar  vvith  death  than  we  wish  to  be  at  present.  We  can 
hardly  conceive  it  possible  to  think  much  of  eternity,  with- 
out thinking  too  much  about  death ;  they  are  so  closely  as- 
sociated in  our  minds.  The  latter  appears  to  us  the  dark 
shadow  of  the  former,  even  when  the  former  is  brightest. 

Thus  there  is  against  the  habit  of  looking  daily  to  eternal 
things  all  the  natural  and  acquired  force  of  our  love  of  life, 
and  of  our  fear  of  death.  The  claims  of  immortality  pre- 
sent themselves  to  us,  pointing  to  the  grave,  and  muttering 
our  mortality.  We  believe  that  Jesus  Christ  brought  im- 
mortality to  light ;  but,  somehow,  w^feel  that  it  is  the  king 
of  terrors  who  holds  up  the  prospect  to  us.  Our  "last  ene- 
my," rather  than  our  best  friend,  is  most  seen,  in  connexion 
with  our  glimpses  of  the  invisible  world. 

There  are  also  causes  of  reluctance,  which  are  more  dis- 
creditable to  us.  We  see,  at  a  glance,  that  an  habitual  sense 
of  eternity  would  impose  and  compel  more  self-denial,  or 
self-control,  or  self-examination,  than  Ave  aliogelher  like. 
We  feel,  instinctively,  that  certain  tempers  and  tendencies, 
if  not  some  habits  also,  would  require  great  and  immediate 
improvements,  if  they  were  confronted  from  day  to  day  with 
the  claims  of  Heaven.  Every  aspect  of  inunortality  is  so 
full  of  solenm  protests  against  all  compromises  with  the  flesh 
and  the  world,  that  even  the  most  exemplary  cannot  but  see 
clearly,  and  feel  deeply,  that  they  are  not  altogether  that 
"  manner  of  persons"  which,  as  heirs  of  immortality,  they 
ought  to  be. 

These  are  not  imaginary  nor  slight  causes  of  that  shrink- 
ing (rom  the  realization  of  eternity  which  is  so  common. 
We  are  eagle-eyed  in  discerning  how  a  habit  of  realizing 
would  bring  all  our  habits,  public,  domestic,  and  secret, 
und(!r  solemn  revision  and  stricter  discipline  ;  and,  thus, 
whatever  is  bad  in  our  nalnro  and  character,  as  well  as  all 
that  is  weak  in  them,  is  averse  to  the  duty,  because  it  in- 
volves so  many  other  duties. 

It  is  this,  much  more  llian  the  difl^iculty  of  forming  clear 
views  of  invisible  realities,  that  prevents  us  from  looking 


REALIZING    ETERNITY.  251 

often  to  the  things  which  are  unseen  and  eternal.  There 
are,  indeed,  mental  hinderances,  but  they  are  neither  so  many 
nor  so  great  as  the  moral  hindrances.  This  is  self-evident 
from  the  single  fact,  that  we  understand  enough  of  the  na- 
ture both  of  heaven  and  hell  to  make  and  keep  us  intent  upon 
reaching  the  former  and  escaping  the  latter.  Our  know- 
ledge of  them  is  not  so  dim  nor  indefinite,  as  to  prevent  us 
from  prizing  the  great  salvation.  Were  we,  therefore,  as 
intent  upon  present  deliverance  from  all  wrong  habits  and 
tempers,  as  upon  future  escape  from  the  wrath  to  come,  we 
should  find  our  knowledge  quite  as  sufficient  to  induce 
greater  holiness,  as  it  is  to  endear  the  cross.  It  looks  ill, 
therefore,  when  we,  who  never  complain  or  pretend,  that 
our  views  of  eternity  are  either  too  few  or  feeble  to  endear 
the  atonement,  pretend  that  we  know  too  little  of  it  to  live 
under  its  direct  influence.  This  does  not  tell  well.  That 
which  binds  us  to  the  cross,  notwithstanding  all  its  myste- 
ries and  all  its  odium,  could  not.  fail,  if  equally  applied  to 
universal  holiness,  to  bind  us  to  it  also.  Besides,  (and  let 
the  fact  prevent  for  ever,  in  our  case,  all  attempts  to  shelter 
aversion  under  the  wing  of  ignorance,)  we  hope  to  die  in 
triumph  or  tranquillity,  upon  the  faith  of  what  we  know  of 
heaven,  both  as  a  state  and  as  a  place.  We  are  sure,  and 
must  confess,  that  if  we  can  only  enjoy  then,  all  that  we  can 
anticipate  and  understand  now,  we  shall  not  be  strangers  to 
comfort  or  composure  when  we  come  to  exchange  worlds. 
Away,  then,  with  the  pitiful  pretence  that  our  ideas  of  fu- 
ture glory  are  too  indefinite  to  have  an  habitual  influence 
upon  our  present  character  and  spirit :  they  are,  by  our  own 
acknowledgment,  distinct  enough,  and  numerous  enough, 
to  "  turn  the  shadow  of  death  into  the  morning,"  even  when 
heart  and  flesh  are  failing.  Surely,  therefore,  they  are  ade- 
quate, if  honestly  applied,  to  make  all  sin  appear  "  exceed- 
ing sinful,"  and  all  holiness  "  altogether  lovely." 

Nothing  is  more  unfounded  (as  will  hereafter  be  shown) 
than  the  pretence  that  we  know  what  heaven  is  not,  rather 
than  what  it  is.     This  is  a  poor  compliment  to  Him,  who 


252  THE   POSSIBILITY    OP 

"  brought  life  and  immortality  to  light,  (illuminated  them,) 
by  the  gospel."  It  is  an  equally  mean  and  meager  com- 
mentary on  this  sublime  fact,  to  say,  that  the  future  state  is 
chiefly  revealed  to  us  by  negatives.  Both  heaven  and  hell 
are  revealed  in  the  same  way,  and  almost  to  the  same  ex- 
tent, as  the  perfections  of  God,  or  the  person  and  work  of 
the  Saviour.  Negatives  are  as  much  used  in  explaining 
their  character,  as  in  depicting  the  invisible  world,  and  are, 
in  general,  as  useful,  on  both  subjects,  as  the  most  positive 
information.  We  might,  therefore,  just  as  well  say,  that  we 
do  not  know  enough  of  God  or  the  Lamb  to  think  much 
about  them,  as  say  that  we  know  too  little  of  eternal  things 
to  think  much  about  them.  We  do  not,  indeed,  know  all 
the  truth  concerning  either,  nor  comprehend  all  that  is  re- 
vealed ;  but  both  are  alike  adapted  to  our  capacity,  and 
equally  distinct.  Accordingly,  the  claims  of  heaven  upon 
our  attention  and  aflfections,  are  as  fully  stated  as  the  claims 
of  the  law  or  the  gospel  •  and,  what  is  more,  the  claims  of 
God  and  the  Lamb  are  chiefly  enforced  by  the  glories  and 
terrors  of  eternity :  facts  which  demonstrate  that  there  is 
no  lack  of  light,  whatever  lack  of  looJcing 'there  may  be. 

It  is  not  much  wiser  to  refer  to  the  weakness  of  our  minds, 
when  the  duty  of  looking  to  the  things  which  are  unseen 
and  eternal,  is  enforced  upon  us.  It  is,  indeed,  very  plausi- 
ble, and  seems  very  humble,  to  ask,  "  What  can  we  make 
of  such  a  subject  as  eternity  ?  We  are  lost  the  moment  we 
attempt  to  realize  it !  Even  in  its  barest  form — that  of  end- 
less duration — it  defies  all  our  calculations.  We  are  no 
nearer  To  the  comprehension  of  it,  when  we  think  of  count- 
less myriads  of  millions  of  ages,  than  when  we  think  of 
countless  moments.  Like  infinity,  it  has  its  centre  every- 
where ;  but  its  circumlerence  nowhere.  What  then  is  the 
use  of  trying  to  comprehend  the  incomprehensible  ?" 

All  this,  however,  is  equally  true  of  God  and  the  Lamb  ; 
but  we  never  ask,  what  is  the  use  of  trying  to  realize  their 
incomprehensible  glories.  We  feel  it  to  be  both  our  duty 
and  interest,  to  try  what  can  be  made  of  them,  by  meditation 


REALIZING    ETERNITY.  253 

and  prayer.  We  confess  and  rejoice,  that  the  divine  char- 
acter sometimes  opens  on  the  mind,  in  such  light  and  love- 
liness, such  power  and  glory,  that  we  are  amply  repaid  for 
all  the  time,  and  thought,  and  prayer,  which  led  to  these 
discoveries.  We  know,  that  still  brighter  discoveries  would 
be  the  certain  reward  of  a  more  devotional  spirit.  We  have 
told  our  souls,  on  retiring  from  some  secret  interviews  with 
God,  that  they  were  for  ever  without  excuse,  if  ever  they 
doubted  the  fact  or  the  felicit}^  of  communion  with  God,  or 
ever  grudged  the  time  required  for  it.  Even  these  passing 
hints  awaken  recollections  of  times  of  refreshing  from  the 
presence  of  the  Lord,  which  compel  us  to  exclaim,  "  0, 
that  it  were  with  me  as  in  months  past,  when  the  secret  of 
God  was  upon  my  tabernacles,  and  his  candle  shined  on 
my  head."  Let,  therefore,  these  experimental  facts  answer 
the  question — what  is  the  use  of  trying  to  comprehend  the 
incomprehensible  ? 

Besides,  what  is  it,  in  eternal  "glory,  that  is  so  very  in- 
comprehensible ?  We  ourselves  have  not  spent  so  very 
much  time  or  thought  upon  the  subject,  as  warrants  us  to 
pronounce  it  inconceivable  ;  and  the  books  written  upon  it, 
are  neither  so  many  nor  so  meager  as  to  prove  that  little  can 
be  made  of  it.  Baxter's  Saints'  Everlasting  Rest,  and 
especially  his  Dying  Thoughts,  are  not  failures.  Drexelius 
was  too  ignorant  of  the  gospel  to  succeed  ;  and  Cayley  too 
quaint ;  and  Welvvood  too  fanciful.  Besides,  like  the 
present  work,  all  these  books  are  too  small  to  determine 
the  real  capabilities  of  the  subject.  They  only  prove,  when 
compared  with  our  standard  works  on  other  lofty  topics, 
how  little  has  ever  been  attempted  on  this  one,  is  it  not 
evident,  that  if  we  had  nothing  more  elaborate  and  profound 
on  the  subject  of  the  divine  character  and  government;  of 
the  glory  and  grace  of  the  atonement ;  of  the  nature  and 
effects  of  divine  influence ;  there  would  be  less  interest 
taken  in  these  cardinal  points  than  there  now  is  ?  Can  any 
thoughtful  man  doubt,  that,  if  Baxter's  time  and  thought 
had  been  equally  divided  between  eternity  and  controversy ; 

VOL.  1.-22 


254  THE    POSSIBILITY    OP 

Owen's,  between  it  and  doctrine  ;  Howe's,  between  it  and 
discussion;  Doddridge's,  between  it  and  experience  ;  Jere- 
my Taylor's,  between  it  and  casuistry ;  we  should  have 
had  works  on  Eternity,  as  valuable  and  sublime  as  the  other 
master-pieces  of  these  master-spirits?  They  would,  of 
course,  have  all  failed  to  define  everlasting  duration,  and 
lo  specify  the  precise  character  of  the  "  fulness"  of  heaven- 
ly engagements  or  enjoyments.  What  then  ?  A  definition 
of  eternity  would  not  be  of  much  use,  if  we  had  one  ;  and, 
therefore,  the  impossibility  of  grasping  the  idea  of  never- 
ending  duration,  is  a  poor  apolog}^  for  not  trying  to  realize 
eternal  things.  The  mental  effort  of  measuring  "  everlast- 
ing"  is  not  the  exercise  we  are  called  to  engage  in  ;  nor  is 
it  one  that  could  lead  to  any  spiritual  result,  even  if  we 
were  qualified  to  make  that  effort. 

In  like  manner,  the  usual  objections  founded  upon  the 
general  charsicter  of  invisible  things,  are  more  plausible 
than  weighty.  For,  what  if  we  cannot  map  out  the  land- 
scape of  heaven  ?  We  know  that  it  is  "  Emmanuel's  land," 
our  "  Father's  house,"  the  temple  and  the  throne  of  "  God 
and  the  Lamb."  There  is  surely  enough  in  ail  this  both  to 
instruct  and  delight,  however  little  we  can  make  of  its  sea 
of  glass  or  its  river  of  life.  What  if  we  ought  not  to  attach 
material  ideas  to  its  crowns,  or  palms,  or  harps  ?  They 
are  tokens  of  divine  favour,  and  of  the  joy  that  springs  from 
that  favour  ;  and  these  are  ideas  equally  simple  and  sublime. 
What  if  we  can  form  no  idea  of  the  precise  order  in  which 
the  "  general  assembly"  are  arranged  around  the  throne  ? 
They  are  around  the  throne  where  Deity  reigns  in  unveiled 
glory! — a  fact  so  distinct  and  transporting,  that  the  mind 
which  will  dwell  on  it  for  a  moment,  will  feel  incapable  of 
giving  a  thouffht  to  the  childish  question  of  local  arrange- 
ments. The  armies  of  heaven  are  in  the  immediate  pres- 
ence of  ^^  the  God  of  order V  That  is  enough.  What, 
also,  if  we  can  form  no  idea  of  the  precise  way  in  which 
angels  and  the  redeemed  interchange  their  knowledge,  and 
reciprocate  their  enjoyments,  nor  of  the  way  in  which  God 


REALIZING    ETERNITY.  255 

and  the  Lamb  communicate  their  will  and  feelings  to  both? 
There  is  communion  between  saints  and  angels,  and  be- 
tween the  Godhead  and  both.  And,  as  it  must  be  in  a  way 
worthy  of  the  majesty  of  the  divine  nature  and  character, 
and  becoming  the  intelligence  of  perfect  spirits,  questions 
about  speech  or  language  are  really  unworthy  of  such  a 
subject.  For,  could  we  answer  them,  the  knowledge  of 
the  forms  and  mediums  of  mental  communication,  could  add 
little  to  the  grandeur  of  the  fact,  that  there  is  communion 
with  God  and  with  each  other.  What,  also,  if  we  can 
neither  tell  nor  conceive,  whether  all  things  in  heaven  and 
throughout  the  universe  will  remain  for  ever,  exactly  as 
they  will  subsist  at  the  consummation  of  time  ;  or  whether 
the  cycles  of  eternity  will  witness  the  creation  of  new 
Avorlds,  and  new  orders  of  beings,  and  the  establishment 
amongst  them  of  new  systems  of  moral  probation?  We 
know  what  is  better — that  God  will  "  rest  in  his  love'^  to 
all  the  redeemed.  No  event  will  ever  occur  to  alienate  his 
heart,  or  hide  his  face,  or  divert  his  attention  from  them. 
Whatever  new  creations  may  arise  in  the  universe,  they 
will  not  displace  the  church  from  her  rank  in  his  esteem. 
Whatever  order  of  angels  or  worlds  may  outstrip  the  rest 
in  the  career  of  improvement,  they  will  never  eclipse  her  ; 
yea,  whatever  possible  modification  of  moral  government 
may  be  introduced  into  any  possible  creation,  the  mediato- 
rial, under  which  the  church  of  Christ  was  performed  and 
perfected,  will  remain  eternally  the  glory  of  the  divine  ad- 
ministration. "  We  shall  be  for  ever  with  the  Lord,"  what- 
ever other  beings  may  be  brought  into  existence  ;  and  for 
ever  nearest  to  him,  whatever  new  relations  he  may  sustain 
to  new  worlds.  He  will  die  no  more,  he  lives  for  ever, 
and,  therefore,  they  must  be  for  ever  dearest  to  him,  for 
whom  he  shed  his  blood. 

There  may  be  no  events  of  that  kind  to  diversify  the  ages 
and  bliss  of  eternity.  The  supposition  of  them  is  not,  how- 
ever, rash  nor  improbable.  And  one  thing  is  certain,  if 
variety  ever  be  wanted  in  order  to  perpetuate  or  promote 


256  THE    POPSIEILITY    OP 

the  happiness  of  heaven,  there  is  space  enough  in  infinity 
for  all  the  worlds  and  systems  which  omnipotence  can 
create,  should  every  age  of  eternity  by  marked  by  a  new 
creation  as  vast  as  the  old. 

But  to  close  this  series  of  questions — what  if  we  cannot 
now  realize  either  the  precise  kind  or  degree  of  our  know- 
ledge in  heaven.  We  are  sure  that  it  will  be  satisfactory, 
both  in  kind  and  degree.  It  will  impart  and  prolong  "  ful- 
ness of  joy  ;" — and  what  more  could  we  wish  ?  We  nat- 
urally advert,  when  we  think  of  heavenly  knowledge,  to 
the  mystery  of  the  divine  essence  ;  and  wonder  whether 
we  shall  understand  the  unity  of  the  Trinity.  Few%  per- 
haps, have  felt  more  curiosity  on  this  point  than  myself.  I 
have  so  often  dwelt  upon  this  question,  that  I  am  actually 
ashamed  of  the  degree  in  which  it  has  occupied  my  atten- 
tion. For,  however  desirable  or  pleasing  it  might  be  to 
understand  this  mystery,  it  is  self-evident,  when  w^e  pause 
to  reflect,  that  even  the  perfect  knowledge  of  it  could  not 
add  much  to  our  enjoyment.  It  would  rather  gratify  our 
curiosity  than  increase  our  happiness.  Indeed,  its  moral 
bearings  upon  present  or  future  bliss  are  any  thing  but  ob- 
vious. Not  that  I  am  indifferent  to  such  knowledge,  nor 
underrate  it ;  but  when  I  ask  myself,  how  it  would  profit 
me,  I  must  say  that  I  cannot  answer  the  question.  I  can- 
not but  see,  that  even  if  I  understood  all  mysteries,  and 
this  one  most,  I  should  still  have  to  find  my  happiness  in 
the  character  of  God.  The  comprehension  of  his  essence, 
however  full  and  clear,  could  not  answer  the  same  moral 
purposes  as  the  comprehension  of  his  love,  his  v/isdom,  or 
his  faithfulness.  And  as  there  is  no  doubt  but  these  will  be 
known  and  enjoyed  in  perfection,  I  must  say  to  myself  and 
to  others,  that  we  should  sustain  no  spiritual  loss  were  this 
mystery  to  be  as  eternal  as  it  is  now  entire. 

I  do  not,  however,  think  that  it  will  be  so.  The  assurance 
that  "  we  shall  know,  even  as  we  are  known,"  pledges,  if 
not  open  vision  on  the  subject,  such  a  degree  of  light  as 
shall  render  the  union  of  Father,  Son,  and  Spirit,  in  the 


REALIZING    ETERNITY.  257 

one  Godhead,  as  obvious  as  the  union  of  soul,  body,  and 
spirit,  in  our  own  one  person.  But  as  it  will  not  be  from 
knowing  the  points  where  the  latter  blend,  nor  the  nexus  of 
their  unity,  but  from  the  intellectual  and  moral  powers  thus 
produced  and  perfected;  so,  whatever  be  the  light  thrown 
upon  the  unity  of  the  Trinity,  our  chief  confidence  and 
delight  in  the  Godhead  must  spring  from  its  moral  perfec- 
tions, and  not  from  its  physical  properties.  In  a  word — we 
shall  know  all  that  finite  intellect  can  enjoy  or  bear ;  and, 
surely,  there  is  range  enough  in  that  wide  and  warm  circle 
of  light,  to  render  the  anticipation  of  the  perfect  day  of 
eternity  equally  pleasing  and  profitable. 

Thus  there  is  really  less  difficulty  in  conceiving  of  in- 
visible things,  than  appears  at  first  sight.  The  current  ob- 
jections against  trying  to  realize  them  are  not  so  formidable 
as  they  are  plausible.  They  are,  in  fact,  rather  the  sug- 
gestions of  sloth,  thai  the  convictions  of  reason  ;  and  far 
less  derived  from  baffled  effort- to  comprehend,  than  from 
reluctance  to  meditate. 

I  must  now  say  distinctly,  that  I  have  a  very  mean  opin- 
ion of  all  the  ordinary  excuses,  put  forward  to  palliate  or 
explain  the  slight  attention  given  to  eternal  things.  I  feel 
thus,  especially,  in  reference  to  the  wrath  to  come.  When 
that  is  dwindled  into  a  question  about  the  materiality  of 
everlasting  burnings,  both  the  head  and  the  heart  do  them- 
selves little  credit.  For,  whatever  unquenchable  fire,  or  the 
deathless  worm,  may  literally  mean,  they  can  mean  nothing 
good — nothing  easy — nothing  temporary  Besides,  to  a 
mind  rightly  exercised  and  disposed,  there  is  surely  more 
than  enough  to  awe  it,  and  to  fix  its  awe,  in  the  single  fact, 
that  hell  is  "  the  wrath  of  God  and  the  Lamb."  There  can 
be  no  great  soundness  of  judgment  nor  justness  of  feeling, 
where  the  impression  of  this  solemn  fact  is  defeated  or 
weakened  by  curiosity.  It  does,  therefore,  appear  to  me 
one  of  the  deceits  of  the  human  heart,  if  not  one  of  the 
wiles  of  Satan,  when  our  thoughts  entangle  themselves  with 
the  minute  details  of  future  misery,  and  thus  escape  from 
22* 


258  THE    EXCUSES    FOR   NOT 

the  awful  and  obvious  truth,  that  it  is  "  everlasting  destruc- 
tion from  the  presence  of  the  Lord,  and  from  the  glory  of 
his  power."  Yes ;  hell  is  this,  whatever  else  it  is,  and 
whatever  else  it  is  not.  Of  what  consequence  then  is  the 
question,  what  else  is  hell,  seeing  it  is  litis?  0,  did  we 
estimate  things  according  to  their  real  or  their  relative  im- 
portance, there  is  in  this  one  view^  of  the  wrath  to  come, 
such  definite  and  appalling  terrors,  that  even  a  momentary 
glance  at  them,  if  given  daily,  could  not  fail  to  keep  us 
fleeing  from  that  wrath,  and  clinging  with  a  death-grasp  to 
the  cross,  as  the  only  refuge  from  it. 


No.  III. 

THE     EXCUSES     FOR     NOT     REALIZING 
ETERNITY. 

However  natural  it  may  be  to  prefer  the  prospect  of  im- 
mortality to  the  horrid  idea  of  annihilation,  it  is  certainly 
neither  natural  nor  common  to  think  often  of  immortality. 
It  is  not  so  attractive  to  us  as  annihilation  is  repulsive.  We 
dislike  the  bare  idea  of  coming  to  such  an  end  as  "the 
beasts  which  perish  ;"  but  we  do  not,  proportionably,  love 
the  bright  hope  of  being  "  as  the  angels  of  God  in  heav- 
en." We  do  not  turn  to  the  latter  with  the  promptness  or 
spirit  that  we  turn  away  from  the  former.  Indeed,  our  re- 
luctance to  speak  or  think  much  of  immortality  is  almost  as 
great  as  our  aversion  to  annihilation.  This  is  a  strange  in- 
consistency !  We  loathe  the  extinction  of  our  being,  and 
yet  shrink  from  dwcjlling  on  the  eternity  of  it.  This  would 
be  very  inconsistent,  even  if  the  gospel  did  no  more  than 
proclaim  redemption  from  the  hell  it  reveals,  without  at  all 
describing  the  heaven  it  promises.  Mere  escape  from 
everlasting  misery,  to  eternal  life  of  any  other  kind,  and  in 


REALIZING     ETERNITY.  259 

any  other  place,  would  deserve  more  consideration  than  we 
usually  give  to  our  "  Father's  house."  O,  yes  ;  were  we 
never  to  see  God  as  he  is,  nor  the  Lamb  in  his  essential 
glory;  never  to  see  the  throne  nor  the  temple  of  Deity; 
never  to  behold  one  angel,  nor  to  hear  one  anthem  of  the 
heaven  of  heavens  ;  even  the  bare  prospect  of  not  being 
under  the  wrath  of  God  and  the  Lamb,  would  be  worth 
more  attention  and  gratitude  than  we  commonly  pay  to  the 
full-orbed  prospect  of  being  for  ever  with  the  Lord,  and 
with  all  who  are  the  Lord's.  Indeed,  if  the  gospel  were 
utterly  silent  on  the  subject  of  heaven,  and  said  nothing 
else  to  commend  or  enforce  its  own  claims,  but  just  that, 
by  believing  and  obeying  it,  we  should  escape  the  abode  of 
"  the  devil  and  his  angels,"  it  would  be  glad  tidings  of  great 
joy,  and  worthy  of  all  acceptation.  But  this  is  not  the 
gospel,  nor  yet  like  it.  It  opens  heaven  as  fully  as  it  un- 
covers hell.  It  says  quite  as  much  to  render  heaven  allu- 
ring, as  to  render  hell  alarming.  • 

It  is  not,  therefore,  owing  to  any  defect  in  bliss  or  glory, 
nor  to  any  deficiency  of  information  concerning  them,  that 
we  meditate  so  seldom  and  slightly  upon  them.  The  Old 
Testament  saints,  who  knew  far  less  of  these  eternal  real- 
ities than  we  do,  realized  them  far  more  than  we  do.  This 
is  no  gratuitous  compliment  to  their  heavenl3'--mindedness. 
God,  who  cannot  lie  nor  err,  has  expressly  testified  that 
their  life  and  conversation  "  declare  plainly"  that  they  de- 
sired "  a  heavenly  country,"  and  "  looked  for  a  city  which 
hath  foundations,  whose  builder  and  maker  is  God."  Why 
is  it,  then,  that,  in  general,  we  are  reluctant  to  dwell  upon 
the  prospects  of  a  glorious  immortality ;  and  that  we  re- 
quire to  plan,  and  watch,  and  pray,  and  resolve,  before  we 
can  at  all  enter  into  the  spirit  of  heavenly  contemplation ; 
and,  that  we  do  not  always  succeed,  even  when  we  make 
an  eflfort  to  pass  within  the  veil  ?  It  is  very  pitiful  when 
this  question  is  answered  by  the  cold  remark,  "  We  know 
too  little  of  heaven  to  think  much  about  it.  We  rather 
know  what  it  is  not,  than  what  it  is.     It  is  chiefly  described 


260  THE     EXCUSES     FOR     NOT 

by  negatives^  Negatives  !  True  ;  buc  they  are  glorious 
negatives.  No  night !  no  death  I  no  sin !  no  suffering  or 
sorrow  !  This  is  what  heaven  is  not.  And  is  all  this  too 
little  to  furnish  matter  for  frequent  and  profound  medita- 
tion ?  Sin  cannot  be  a  very  oppressive  burden  to  the  mind 
that  takes  no  pleasure  in  contemplating  eternal  freedom 
from  the  very  being,  as  well  as  from  the  love  and  power  of 
sin.  Ignorance,  and  liability  to  mistake  and  err,  cannot  be 
very  irksome  to  the  mind  that  is  not  delighted  with  the 
prospect  of  seeing  "  face  to  face"  all  the  things  which  we 
"  now  see  through  a  glass  darkly."  Pain  and  death  can- 
not be  much  felt  or  feared,  nor  the  vicissitudes  of  life  much 
reckoned  on,  where  the  prospect  of  "no  more  curse"  has 
little  or  no  attraction.  It  is,  therefore,  very  pitiful,  when 
the  negatives  of  revelation  are  appealed  to,  as  reasons  for 
not  looking  much  to  the  things  which  are  unseen  and  eter- 
nal. Were  any  of  the  lowest  of  these  negatives  to  become 
true  of  any  place  in  this  world,  that  place  would  soon  be 
attractive  and  popular.  The  discovery  of  a  country  in 
which  there  was  no  pain,  or  no  sickness,  would  be  a  theme 
of  enthusiastic  congratulation.  Such  a  place  would  soon 
be  crowded  ;  and  even  those  who  stayed  at  home  would  be 
unable  to  forbear  from  thinking  of  it,  although  it  were 
described  only  by  negatives.  Such  a  negative  as  "  no  suf- 
fering," would  be  held  to  be  a  positive  good,  and  be  hailed 
with  general  gratitude.  And,  as  heaven  is  the  entire  and 
eternal  negation  of  all  evil,  natural  and  moral,  they  evince 
little  mind,  and  less  conscience,  who  excuse  tlioir  inatten- 
tion to  it  by  the  ])retcnce,  that  '*  we  know  what  it  is  not, 
rather  than  what  it  is." 

It  is  also  common  to  put  forward  a  better  excuse  in  a 
worse  form  ;  because  an  unscriptural  form.  How  often  are 
both  speaking  and  thinking,  abruptly  broken  off,  by  quoting 
the  words  of  Paul,  "  Eye  hath  not  seen,  nor  ear  heard, 
neither  have  entered  into  the  heart  of  man,  the  things  which 
God  hath  prepared  for  them  that  love  him."  This  too  is 
pitiful,  whether  it  arise  from  ignorance  or  inattention ;  for 


REALIZING     ETERNITY.  261 

Paul  immediately  adds,  "  But  God  hath  revealed  them  imto 
us  hy  his  Spirit."  1  Cor.  ii.  9,  10.  This  the  apostle  re- 
peats with  triumph:  "Now  we  have  received  not  the  spirit 
of  the  world,  but  the  Spirit  which  is  of  God,  that  we  might 
know  the  things  which  are  freely  given  ns  of  God ;  which 
things  also  we  speak."  So  far,  therefore,  is  the  apostolic 
argument  from  being  an  apology  for  not  attempting  to  realize 
heaven,  that  it  is,  in  fact  and  intention,  a  strong  reason  for 
looking  much  and  often  to  the  joy  set  before  us.  Well 
might  Baxter  say  :  "  Think  on  the  joys  above  as  boldly  as 
Scripture  hath  expressed  them.  To  conceive  of  glory, 
only  as  above  our  conception,  will  beget  little  love  ;  or,  as 
above  our  love,  will  produce  little  joy."  Baxter,  indeed, 
knew  well,  and  Paul  knew  perfectly,  that  "  the  things 
which  God  hath  prepared  for  them  that  love  him"  surpass 
all  knowledge  and  comprehension:  but  they  knew,  also, 
that  God  had  revealed  these  things  as  freely  and  fully  as 
they  were  utterable  by  words,  or.  could  be  made  intelligible 
by  images  ;  which  is  just  as  far  as  a  revelation  of  them 
could  go  ;  and,  therefore,  these  holy  men  found  in  this,  in- 
spiring reasons  for  frequent  and  rapturous  contemplation  of 
the  saints'  everlasting  rest. 

This  case  is  similar  to  that  of  the  love  of  Christ.  It 
"  passeth  knowledge"  in  its  breadth  and  length,  its  depth 
and  height ;  but  that  is  not  held  to  be  a  valid  reason  for  not 
trying  to  "  comprehend"  it.  Accordingly,  when  we  do  try, 
we  do  comprehend  enough  of  its  "  breadth,"  to  see  room  for 
ourselves  ;  enough  of  its  "  length,"  to  see  residence  for  our- 
selves ;  enough  of  its  "  depth,"  to  see  support  for  ourselves  : 
enough  of  its  "height,"  to  see  security  for  ourselves.  Or, 
if  at  any  time,  or  even  often,  we  fail  to  see  all  this  in  the 
dimensions  and  duration  of  the  love  of  Christ,  we  feel  that 
the  failure  is  owing  to  our  own  blindness  or  unbelief,  and 
not  to  any  defect  in  His  love.  Besides,  its  incomprehen- 
sibleness  is  felt  to  be  a  part  of  its  glory.  We  understand 
and  enjoy  it  most  when  we  are  constrained  to  say,  "It 
passeth  knowledge !"     When  Paul  uttered  this  exclamation, 


262  THE     EXCUSES    FOR    NOT 

and  its  emphatic  accompaniments,  he  saw  more  of  the 
wonders  of  redeeming  love  than  he  had  ever  seen  before. 
His  mind  was  out  amongst  its  immeasurable  glories,  as 
Newton's  was  abroad  in  the  universe,  when  he  said  it  was 
unsearchable.  This,  in  Newton's  lips,  was  not  the  language 
of  ignorance,  nor  of  disappointment.  He  saw  the  distant 
and  dazzling  points  at  which  the  universe  became  unsearch- 
able ;  and  never  knew  nor  enjoyed  so  much,  as  when  he 
thus  felt,  through  all  his  soul,  that  it  "  passeth  knowledge." 
In  like  manner,  Paul  saw  the  point  of  breadth,  the  point  of 
length,  the  point  of  depth,  the  point  of  height,  at  which  the 
love  of  Christ,  like  the  spaces  of  infinity,  surpasseth  com- 
prehension. 

So  it  is  with  the  glories  of  heaven.  Enough  may  be 
discovered,  by  devotional  meditation,  to  fill  the  heart  with  a 
"joy  full  of  glory  ;"  and  that  joy  will  overflow  whenever  it 
is  really  "unspeakable."  There  is,  therefore,  no  such  lack 
or  indefiniteness  of  information,  as  would  excuse  inatten- 
tion, or  as  should  discourage  effort.  Behold,  in  Revelation, 
"  a  ladder  set  up  on  earth,"  and  the  top  thereof  reacheth 
"  to  heaven  ;"  and  we,  though  not  angels,  may  ascend  and 
descend  on  it  with  perfect  safety  and  daily  advantage.  It 
was  not  on  this  ladder  that  the  Mystics  ascended. 

Is  it,  then,  because  we  deem  it  unnecessary  to  our  safety 
or  comfort,  that  we  set  apart  so  little  time  for  heavenly 
meditation  ?  Are  we  influenced  in  this  by  the  conduct  of 
others  ;  and,  because  so  few  seem  heavenly-minded,  until 
they  are  dying,  do  we  think  it  enough  to  be  neighbour- 
like? Do  we  ever,  to  avoid  the  trouble  of  retiring  to  med- 
itate on  heaven,  try  to  prove  that  it  is  not  necessary  unto 
salvation  to  be  heaverdy-minded  ?  Are  we  rather  pleased 
with,  tlian  ashamed  of,  the  bald  logic  which  could  make  it 
quite  plausibk;,  that  a  man  may  get  to  heaven  at  last,  with- 
out tliitikirig  much  about  it  by  the  way  ?  Are  we  at  all  in- 
clined to  play  off  any  of  the  doctrines  of  grace  against  the 
necessity  of  setting  our  affections  on  "things  above?" 

These  questions   are   not  so  numerous  or  varied,  as  the 


REALIZING    ETERNITY.  263 

ways  in  which  the  human  heart  tries  to  evade  the  claims 
of  God  and  eternity  upon  its  affections;  It  can  play  both 
dexterous  and  desperate  games  of  hazard,  when  it  is  unwil- 
ling to  yield  to  divine  authority.  Some  persuade  them- 
selves that  there  is  no  hazard  even  in  allowing  an  immoral 
habit  of  life  to  stand  out  against  the  law  of  God.  Now, 
this  we  durst  not  allow  in  ourselves.  This  we  brand  with 
the  deserved  and  disgraceful  name  of  Antinomianism  ;  the 
mark  of  the  modern  "  beast  and  false  prophet,"  whether 
blazoned  on  the  "forehead,"  or  hid  in  the  "hand."  There 
are,  however,  "  lusts  of  the  mind,"  as  well  as  lusts  of  the 
flesh ;  and  the  desire  to  reserve  the  great  bulk  of  our  spare 
time  for  thinking  and  speaking  of  earthly  things,  is  one  of 
these  mental  lusts.  The  desire  to  have  things  right  be- 
tween God  and  the  conscience,  without  the  trouble  of  keep- 
ing them  right,  is  another.  Impatience  to  quit  the  closet  is 
a  third.  Drawing  in,  or  checking,  those  lines  of  thought 
which  lead  direct  to  eternity,  is  a  fourth.  Now,  although 
none  of  these  lusts  of  the  mind  amount  to  Antinomianism, 
there  is  enough  of  sin  in  them  to  make  a  conscientious  man 
afraid  and  ashamed  of  them.  We,  therefore,  ought  not  to 
parley  with  the  mean  questions,  how  little  heavenly  medi- 
tation is  compatible  with  not  risking  heaven  ;  or,  how  much 
may  we  "  mind  earthly  things,"  without  missing  eternal 
things  at  last  ?  These  are  calculations  which  the  Search- 
er of  hearts  must  despise,  as  dishonourable  to  Himself,  and 
as  discreditable  to  those  who  are  bound  to  please  Him.  For 
how  can  we  please  Him,  if  we  take  little  or  no  pleasure  in 
the  eternal  weight  of  glory,  which  he  has  prepared  for,  and 
revealed  to,  them  that  love  him  ? 

Consider,  we  profess  to  have  "  like  precious  faith"  with 
them  who  first  loved  God,  Now,  they  could  say,  "  Our 
conversation  is  in  heaven."  Their  apostolic  teachers  could 
say  of  them,  "  Ye  took  joyfully  the  spoiling  of  your  goods  ; 
knowing,  in  yourselves,  that  ye  have  in  heaven  a  better  and 
an  enduring  inheritance."  Now,  as  we  allow,  and  even  try 
to  make  our  faith  go  all  the  length  that  theirs  went,  in  re- 


264  THE    EXCUSES    FOR    NOT 

lying  on  the  Saviour,  and  in  depending  on  the  Holy  Spirit, 
and  in  following  practical  holiness,  why  not  allow  and  em- 
ploy it  to  be  "  the  substance  of  things  hoped,  and  the  evi- 
dence of  things  not  seen?"  Hear  how  God  appeals  to  us 
on  behalf  of  this  duty  :  "  If  ye  be  then  risen  with  Christ, 
seek  those  things  which  are  from  above,  where  Christ  sit- 
teth  at  the  right  hand  of  God.  Set  your  affections  on  things 
above,  not  on  things  on  the  earth."  This  spiritual  command 
is  as  authoritative  as  the  moral  command  annexed  to  it — 
"  Mortify  your  members  which  are  upon  the  earth,"  (Col.  i. 
1-5.)  Now,  this  moral  command,  so  far  as  it  regards  the 
lusts  of  the  flesh,  we  revere  and  obey.  It  is  written  upon 
our  hearts  as  with  the  pen  of  a  diamond.  We  deprecate 
and  loathe  any  sophistry  that  would  relax  its  authority  over 
us,  or  soften  the  aspect  of  incontinence.  This  is  as  it  should 
be  ;  but  why  should  the  spiritual  command  be  less  heeded, 
or  the  neglect  of  it  be  less  feared?  It  rests  upon  the  same 
high  authority,  and  is  equally  explicit.  Its  sanction,  also, 
although  it  do  not  sound  so  awfully,  is  not  less  solemn  than 
that  of  the  former.  The  Saviour  enforces  heaven!y-mind- 
edness  thus  :  "  for  where  your  treasure  is.  there  will  your 
hearts  be  also :"  a  consideration  not  less  awful,  when  duly 
weighed,  than  the  "  wrath"  threatened  against  the  unclean ; 
for  if  the  "  heart"  be  set  on  earthly  things,  the  issue  will  be 
fatal  to  the  soul. 

It  is  easy  to  say,  and  to  prove  by  words,  that  there  is  no 
comparison  between  sensuality  and  earthly-mindodness,  in 
point  of  guilt.  This  is  quite  true,  in  more  senses  than  one. 
It  is,  however,  equally  true,  that  there  is  much  comparison 
between  them  in  point  of  tendency.  Accordingly,  worldli- 
ness  ruins  quite  as  many  as  profligacy,  if  not  more.  It  is 
equally  powerful,  and  more  plausible,  in  diverting  the  mind 
from  God.  It  leaves  as  little  room  or  relish  in  the  heart 
for  secret  devotion,  as  vice  can  do.  The  sensualist  is  afraid 
to  be  alone  with  God ;  and  the  worldling  grudges  the  time 
and  dislikes  the  duty.  In  a  word  ;  as  it  is  expressly  de- 
clared that  the  sensual  have  not  "  the  Spirit,"  so  it  is,  that 


REALIZING    ETERNITY.  265 

*'if  any  man  love  the  world,  the  love  of  the  Father  is  not  in 
him." 

It  is  not  intended  by  these  remarks  to  confound  even  a 
low  degree  of  heavenly-inindedness,  with  this  love  of  the 
world.  The  former  may  coexist  with  both  the  love  and 
the  fear  of  God  for  a  time.  A  renewed  mind  is  not  a  heav- 
enly mind  at  once,  nor  always  soon ;  but  whilst  this  is 
readily  granted,  it  is  not  less  true,  that  a  renewed  mind  can 
only  prove  its  renewal  to  itself,  by  trying  to  set  its  affections 
on  things  above,  as  soon  as  the  necessity  of  doing  so  is 
proved  to  be  imperative  ;  for  to  give  ourselves  full  credit  for 
being  "born  of  God,"  whilst  conscious  of  a  wilful  outstand 
against  this  divine  command,  would  be  both  imprudent  and 
presumptuous.  Something  must  be,  and  will  be  done,  in 
this  matter,  by  an  honest  convert,  that  he  may  have  a  good 
conscience  towards  God  in  heavenly  things,  as  well  as  tow- 
ards man  in  earthly  things.  Much  will  not  be  done,  how- 
ever, until  he  is  as  fully  persuaded  of  the  advantage,  as  of 
the  necessity  of  heavenly-mindedness ;  for  where  it  is  to 
begin,  after  we  have  gone  on  pretty  well  for  years  without 
it,  it  is  not  easy  to  see  the  use  or  the  benefit  of  it.  Indeed, 
at  first  sight,  there  seems  more  advantage  to  be  derived  from 
cultivating  the  practical  virtues  more  carefully,  than  from 
thinking  often  about  heaven.  And  there  is  much  weight 
in  the  question — Is  not  practical  godliness  the  best  prepa- 
ration for  heaven  ?  The  man  who  denies  or  doubts  this,  does 
not  understand  the  design  of  the  gospel.  "  The  grace  of 
God  that  bringeth  salvation,"  bringeth  it,  "  teaching  us,  that, 
denying  all  ungodliness  and  worldly  lusts,  we  should  live 
soberly,  righteously,  and  godly,  in  this  present  wArld."  But 
this  is  not  all  that  it  teaches  us  :  all  this  is  to  be  done,  Paul 
says,  "  looking  for  that  blessed  hope,  and  the  glorious  ap- 
pearing of  the  great  God  and  our  Saviour  Jesus  Christ," 
(Titus  ii.  13.)  Looking  heavenward  is,  therefore,  as  much 
one  of  the  lessons  which  grace  teacheth,  as  looking  well  to 
our  moral  conduct,  is  another  ;  and  a  hahit  of  both  is  equal- 
ly taught  in  the  gospel.  Accordingly,  they  will  be  found, 
VOL.  I.— 23 


266  THE    EXCUSES    FOR    NOT 

on  due  examination,  to  bo  mutually  necessary  and  useful  to 
each  other.  Indeed,  there  can  be  no  heavenly-mindedness, 
where  there  is  little  practical  godliness.  The  man  who  is 
not  both  sober  and  honest,  is  unable  to  realize  eternal  things, 
so  as  to  derive  any  enjoyment  from  them.  There  is  a 
flaming  sword  between  him,  and  "  the  tree  of  life,  which  is 
in  the  midst  of  the  Paradise  of  God."  It  is  quite  unneces- 
sary to  caution  him  against  devoting  too  much  of  his  time 
or  thought  to  the  contemplation  of  future  glory.  His  thoughts 
run  in  the  opposite  direction,  when  they  are  forced  in 
amongst  invisible  realities. 

On  the  other  hand,  however,  it  is  equally  true,  that,  without 
"looking  for  the  blessed  hope"  of  eternal  life,  there  will  be 
no  eminent  godliness.  There  may,  indeed,  be  honesty,  and 
sobriety,  and  benevolence,  maintained,  without  much  dis- 
tinct reference  to  heaven  ;  because  these  duties  bring  a 
daily  reward,  by  increasing  the  comfortableness  of  the  com- 
forts of  life.  There  are,  however,  duties,  and  those  of 
equal  importance  too,  which  cannot  be  well  discharged 
without  a  considerable  degree  of  heavenly-mindedness,  be- 
cause their  rewards  are  remote.  The  religious  education 
of  a  family  is  one  of  these  duties.  Parents,  who  are  con- 
tent to  let  recollections  of  eternity  come  and  go  as  may 
happen,  and  who  take  no  pains  to  keep  the  light  of  eternity 
upon  their  domestic  responsibilities,  will  neither  donor  care 
much  for  the  spiritual  welfare  of  their  children  ;  but  will 
also  content  themselves  with  the  negative  virtue  of  not  set- 
ting a  bad  example  before  their  offspring,  and  with  the  cheap 
discipline  of  an  angry  reproof,  or  a  hasty  punishment.  In 
such  families,  also,  nothing  will  be  done  to  make  servants 
wise  unto  salvation,  except  allowing  or  requiring  them  to 
attend  public  worship  once  on  the  Lord's  day.  In  like 
manner,  where  there  is  no  habitual  sense  of  unseen  realities 
kept  up,  there  will  be  no  habitual  effort  to  glorify  God,  by 
trying  to  do  good  to  the  souls  of  the  poor  and  the  perishing. 
Relief  may  be  sent  to  the  poor,  and  visiting  societies  sup- 
ported for  the  spiritual  benefit  of  the  sick;  h\M personal  e\- 


REALIZING     ETERNITY.  267 

ertions  to  win  souls  will  not  be  made,  by  any  one  whose 
personal  piety  has  but  little  daily  reference  to  eternity. 

Nor  are  these  the  only  duties  which  cannot  be  well  dis- 
charged without  some  heavenly-mindedness.  The  Scrip- 
tures will  not  be  much,  nor  very  devotionally,  searched,  if 
we  lose  sight  of  the  "  eternal  life"  which  they  reveal. 
Secret  prayer  will  not  be  very  solemn  nor  constant,  if  we 
confine  our  attention  to  our  immediate  spiritual  wants  ;  for 
whatever  truth  there  may  be  in  the  religious  proverb,  (and 
there  is  much,)  that  "  dying  grace  is  for  a  dying  hour,"  it  is 
equally  true,  that  if  grace  to  live  well  is  not  sought  with  an 
express  reference  to  dying  well,  it  will  not  be  earnestly  nor 
often  sought.  He  will  pray  most  in  secret,  and  with  most 
pleasure,  whose  closet  is,  as  it  were,  a  little  nook  of  the 
heaven  of  heavens,  partitioned  off  for  communion  with  God, 
and  whose  times  of  retirement  are  regarded  as  portions  of 
eternity.  And  there  is  special  need,  that  the  family  altar 
should  actually  lean  on  the  eternal  throne  ;  there  is  such 
danger  of  becoming  formal  and  dull  in  domestic  worship ! 

The  advantages  of  heavenly-mindedness  are  not,  how- 
ever, confined  to  the  duties  of  godliness  :  they  extend  also 
to  religious  enjoyments.  Now,  a  "  good  hope  through 
grace,"'  is  an  enjoyment  which  we  prize  highly,  and  pray 
much  for  ;  because  we  find  that  we  cannot  go  on  well  with- 
out it.  We  feel  with  Paul,  that  hope  is  the  very  "  anchor 
of  the  soul."  We  call  it  emphatically,  "  our  sheet  anchor ;" 
nor  is  there  any  impropriety  in  thus  strengthening  our  sense 
of  its  importance,  by  the  best  form  of  its  consecrated 
image.  It  would,  however,  be  better  to  familiarize  our- 
selves with  the  scriptural  use  of  this  fine  image.  Now, 
Paul  says,  that  the  anchor  of  hope  "  entereth  into  that 
within  the  veil;  whither  the  forerunner  is  for  us  entered, 
even  Jesus."  "  That  within  the  veil,"  is  evidently  heaven. 
It  is,  therefore,  when  hope  (like  an  anchor  passing  through 
the  veil  of  the  waters  until  it  lay  hold  upon  the  channels  of 
the  waters)  passes  into  heaven,  that  it  becomes  an  anchor 
of  the  soul,  "  sure  and  steadfast,"  and  thus  furnishes  "strong 


268  THE    EXCUSES    I' OR    NOT 

consolation."  (Heb.  vi.  19,  20.)  If,  therefore,  we  would 
enjoy  or  maintain  a  good  hope  through  grace,  we  must 
make  it  to  enter  within  the  veil,  not  only  when  our  souls 
are  tempest-tossed,  but  also  when  there  is  a  "great  calm." 
Indeed,  we  shall  not  be  able  to  use  it  as  an  anchor,  in  the 
storm,  if  we  do  not  use  it  in  the  calm.  Accordingly,  those 
who  use  it  rather  as  ballast  to  their  character,  than  as  an 
anchor  of  the  soul,  find,  in  the  hour  of  temptation  and  trial, 
that  they  cannot  cast  it  within  the  veil.  They  try;  but  it 
will  not  take  hold  of  "  that"  which  is  within.  Their  hope 
drags,  like  an  anchor  on  bad  moorings.  Not,  indeed,  that 
using  it  as  ballast  to  the  character,  is  the  cause  of  this. 
Hope  should,  yea,  must,  be  employed  to  steady  the  life,  as 
well  as  to  cheer  the  heart.  It  will,  however,  be  unable  to 
enter  within  the  veil,  whilst  all  without  the  veil  is  dark  and 
threatening,  if  it  do  not  accustom  itself  to  enter  when  all 
without  is  tranquil.  Our  souls  must  send  hope  heaven- 
Avard,  even  when  they  least  need  the  consolation,  if  they 
Avould  stand  prepared  to  enjoy  that  consolation  when  they 
most  need  it. 

The  spirit,  although  not  the  form,  of  these  hints,  is  equal- 
ly applicable  to  the  enjoyment  of  peace  of  conscience. 
This,  also,  is  very  dear,  and  justly  so,  to  all  true  believers ; 
and,  like  every  other  spiritual  joy,  it  has  both  its  source  and 
centre  in  the  Cross  of  Christ.  But  whilst  it  was  the  blood 
of  Christ  that  made  peace,  and  whilst  it  is  faith  in  that 
blood  which  brings  peace  into  the  conscience,  it  is  heaven 
which  tests  our  peace  in  believing,  and  shows  "  what  sort 
it  is  :"  for  if  it  will  not  bear  to  be  confronted  with  heaven, 
it  is  not  such  a  peace  as  the  atonement  is  calculated  to  af- 
ford ;  and,  therefore,  not  such  as  should  satisfy  us.  No- 
thing, however,  is  farther  from  my  intention,  in  these  re- 
marks, than  to  insinuate  that  there  is  no  faith  in  the  atone- 
ment, when  there  is  no  assurance  of  eternal  life,  or  whilst 
heaven  is  not  directly  contemplated.  There  is  much  evi- 
dence of  true  faith,  when  a  conscience,  once  burdened 
with  guilt,  and  agitated  with  fear,  is  so  tranquillized  by 


REALIZING     ETERNITY.  269 

scriptural  views  of  the  cross,  that  the  believer  is  both  able 
and  willing  to  engage  in  all  the  ordinary  duties  of  life  with 
composure  and  determination.  This  is  as  truly  "the  work 
of  faith,"  and  as  properly  so,  as  any  effort  to  set  our  affec- 
tions on  things  above  :  for  we  belong  to  time  as  well  as  to 
eternity  ;  to  this  world,  as  well  as  to  that  which  is  to  come  ; 
and  are,  therefore,  equally  bound  to  discharge  the  duties  of 
both.  It  would,  therefore,  be  decidedly  wrong  to  form  a 
habit  of  so  contemplating  heaven,  as  if  we  were  just  about 
to  leave  the  world.  This  is  not  what  is  wanted.  It  is, 
however,  necessary,  as  we  know  not  when  we  must  leave 
the  world,  that  our  faith  should  often  try  how  our  peace  will 
stand  the  test  of  a  steady  look  at  heaven.  Let  it,  by  all 
means,  look  at  the  duties  of  life  and  godliness  ;  and  observe 
well,  how  it  is  affected  by  them  ;  and  let  all  its  holy  in- 
fluence upon  them  be  set  down  as  proof  of  its  being  "  the 
peace  of  God,"  which  springs  from  faith  in  Christ.  It 
must  not,  however,  be  allowed  to  stop  here.  Our  peace 
must  be  frequently  confronted  with  heaven  also,  if  v.^e  would 
have  it  to  "  keep  our  hearts  and  minds"  truly  happy.  For, 
as  there  must  be  something  wrong  or  defective  in  it,  if 
thinking  of  eternity  disturbs  it ;  so  our  own  consciousness 
of  this  disturbance  must  create  a  suspicion  that  we  may 
have  no  peace,  when  we  are  coinpelled  to  think  of  eternity  : 
for  if  the  prospect  agitate  us,  how  must  the  reality  over- 
power us  on  our  death-bed  ?  Whereas,  by  seeking  from 
day  to  day,  a  peace  which  shall  "  reign  unto  eternal  life," 
as  well  as  sweeten  our  temporal  life,  we  shall  do  best  for 
both  worlds. 

It  is  now  easy  to  see  how  heavenly-mindedness  must  main- 
tain and  promote  love  to  the  Saviour.  We  often  lament  the 
coldness  and  deadnessof  our  hearts  towards  Him.  There  are 
few  prayers  that  we  utter  so  fervently,  as  that  of  Watts  : — 

"  Come,  Holy  Spirit,  heavenly  Dove, 

With  all  thy  quickening  powers  ; 
Conne,  shed  abroad  a  Saviour's  love, 

And  that  shall  kindle  ours  !" 
33* 


270  NOMINAL     FAITH,    PROM     NOT 

Well,  the  spirit  we  thus  invoke,  works  by  means.  He 
quickens  by  quickening  motives ;  and  one  of  them  is,  the 
hope  of  glory.  Now,  this  he  employs  so  much  for  kindling 
love  to  Christ,  that  one  of  his  own  titles  is,  "the  earnest  of 
the  inheritance"  in  heaven.  By  trying,  therefore,  to  set  our 
affections  on  things  above,  we  are  taking  the  most  natural 
way,  and  the  most  spiritual  too,  of  setting  them  upon  the 
Saviour  himself.  Indeed,  it  is  impossible  to  love  him  as 
we  ought,  or  even  as  we  might,  without  contemplating  fre- 
quently both  the  wTath  to  come,  from  which  He  delivers; 
and  the  glory  to  come,  which  He  has  prepared. 


No.  IV. 

NOMINAL    FAITH,    FROM    NOT    REALIZING 
ETERNITY. 

What  ought  believers,  and  especially  ministers,  to  think 
of  that  national  faith  which  Christianity  has  obtained  in  this 
country  ?  Any  zealot  can  despise  it ;  and  any  theorist  ex- 
pose its  defects.  Both,  however,  would  be  startled,  vv'cre 
the  national  faith  transferred  from  Protestantism  to  Popery, 
or  to  Deism,  or  even  to  Socinianism.  Such  an  apostacy 
would  be  appalling,  even  to  those  who  brand  popular  faith, 
as  absolute  unbelief.  They  would  be  the  first  to  proclaim 
its  guilt,  and  to  predict  its  punishment.  National  faith  is 
not,  therefore,  a  worthless  nor  a  useless  thing.  Even 
nominal  Christianity  is  infinitely  preferable  to  real  infidelity. 
The  latter  would  throw  back  the  moral  character  of  the 
country,  and  render  solvation  impossible  ;  whereas  the  for- 
mer, with  all  its  awful  defects — and  they  are  as  enormous  as 
numerous — maintains  many  virtues,  and  helps  to  keep  the 
golden  candlestick  of  the  gospel  in  Britain. 

Is  there,  then,  no  faith  at  all  in  this  popular  belief? 
However  this  may  be^  there  is  as  much  truth  passed  into 


REALIZING    ETERNITY.  271 

currency,  as  keeps  popular  feeling  hostile  to  Popery  and 
Socinianism.  Public  opinion  is  against  the  great  heresies, 
both  of  ancient  and  modern  times.  Indeed,  except  in  a 
few  obscure  places,  it  is  impossible  for  any  minister  to 
speak  more  highly  of  the  glory  or  the  grace  of  the  Saviour, 
than  the  public  mind  would  bear.  Neither  the  "  Amen," 
nor  the  "  Alleluia,"  of  the  people  would  be  withheld  from 
the  loftiest  form  of  his  worship. 

Snch  being  the  sober  and  familiar  facts  of  the  case,  that 
man's  orthodoxy  ought  not  to  be  suspected,  who  ventures 
to  doubt  the  wisdom  of  despising  and  denouncing  national 
faith.  He  ought,  at  least,  to  obtain  a  fair  hearing,  even 
when  he  hazards  the  assertion,  that  exposures  of  its  defects 
and  fallacies  are  not  the  only  nor  the  best  means  of  removing 
them.  It  is  as  easy,  as  it  is  true,  to  tell  nominal  believers, 
that  they  do  not  understand  nor  love  the  gospel  which  they 
profess  to  believe  ;  that  they  have  no  spiritual  discernment 
of  its  glory,  and  no  humbling  sense  of  their  need  of  its 
grace.  This,  alas,  is  the  fact ;  but  the  question  is,  why  is 
this  the  case  ?  It  is  easy  to  say,  because  they  do  not  seek 
to  be  taught  by  the  Spirit  of  God.  This,  also,  is  only  too  true  ! 
But  here,  also,  the  question,  "  Why  is  this  the  case,"  is 
necessary.  Why  are  the  generality  so  insensible  of  their 
need  of  divine  teaching,  and  so  averse  to  pray  for  it  1  Here, 
again,  it  is  as  easy,  as  it  is  true,  to  say,  that  they  love  the 
world  so  much,  and  sin  so  well,  that  "  the  things  of  the 
Spirit  are  foolishness"  to  them.  Still  the  question  returns, 
why  do  they  so  love  the  world  and  sin  1  Now,  when  we  say 
that  such  is  human  nature,  whilst  unregenerate,  we  ought  to 
remember,  that  such  was  our  nature,  and  that  of  all  believers, 
before  conversion.  What,  therefore,  was  the  grand  con- 
sideration which  the  eternal  Spirit  employed  for  changing 
our  nominal  belief  of  the  gospel,  into  cordial  faith  ?  What 
gave  that  force  to  truth  ;  and  that  effect  to  trials  ;  and  that 
power  to  conscience  ;  and  that  aspect  to  sin ;  which  ar- 
rested our  unbelief,  and  decided  our  character  ?  The  Chris- 
tian, who  will  examine  this  matter  duly  in  his  own  case, 


272  NOMINAL   FAITH,    FROM   NOT 

will  find  that  it  was  the  weight  of  eternity  which  turned  the 
scale.  And  if  he  will  pass  from  his  own  case,  to  that  of 
the  first  Christians,  he  will  find,  in  a  more  remarkable  de- 
gree, that  it  was  by  motives  drawn  from  all  the  heights  and 
depths  of  eternity,  that  the  Holy  Spirit  won  faith  to  the  cross. 

Now,  if  this  be  the  historical  and  experimental  fact,  is  it 
not  both  self-evident  and  certain,  that  nominal  belief  must 
prevail,  until  eternity  is  brought  to  bear  more  fully  and  fre- 
quently on  the  public  mind  ?  Are  we  wiser  than  Christ 
and  the  Apostles,  that  we  deal  so  much  in  exposures  of 
defect  and  fallacy  in  nominal  faith,  and  so  little  in  manifest- 
ations of  eternal  things  ?  Are  we  so  ignorant  of  human 
nature,  as  to  imagine  that  the  way  to  set  men  right,  is  to 
prove  that  they  are  wrong?  Unmasking  and  analyzing 
character,  principle,  and  motives,  formed,  indeed,  a  special 
part  of  the  Saviour's  ministry.  He  never  met  the  scribes 
or  the  Pharisees,  without  exposing  both  their  hypocrisy  and 
self-righteousness.  But,  whilst  this  is  true,  it  is  equally 
true  that  all  this  was  done  in  direct  connexion  with  eternity. 
Their  hypocrisy  was  laid  open  and  lashed,  not  chiefly  by 
contrasting  it  with  the  sincerity  of  the  pious,  but  by  kindling 
upon  it "  the  damnation  of  hell."  Theirboasling  righteousness 
was  weighed,  and  found  wanting  ;  but  not  in  the  scales  of 
comparison  only,  nor  in  the  scales  of  law  chiefly,  but  in 
those  of  judgment  and  eternity.  Every  thing  was  brought 
to  an  eternal  issue,  and  kept  in  the  full  blaze  of  heaven's 
glories,  or  of  hell's  flames.  Thus  the  Saviour  gave  the 
scribes  and  Pharisees  something  more  to  do,  than  to  mark 
how  their  spirit  differed  from  that  of  the  penitent  and  the 
humble  ;  He  made  them  notice  and  feel,  how  it  differed 
from  all  that  constitutes  moetncss  for  heaven,  and  how  it 
breathed  "  the  savour  of  death  unto  death." 

This  characteristic  of  the  Saviour's  ministry  may  be 
traced  in  all  his  sermons  to  all  classes.  Everlasting  life, 
or  everlasting  misery,  is  always  the  great  motive  by  which 
he  enforces  every  duty  ;  and  the  only  motive  by  which  he 
enforces  faith.     Indeed,  it  might  have  been  with  an  express 


REALIZING     RO"  E  R  N  I  T  Y  .  273 

reference  to  the  mere  moral  reasonings  of  the  present  day, 
and  as  a  standing  protest  against  them,  that  he  ran  all  his 
lessons  into  eternity.  When  he  argues  against  a  besetting 
sin,  he  spends  no  time  in  proving  its  banefid  influence  upon 
personal  or  domestic  happiness  ;  but  appeals,  at  once,  to  the 
final  result  of  indulgence,  "  everlasting  lire."  Matt,  xviii. 
8,  9.  In  like  manner,  when  he  enforces  mutual  forgive- 
ness and  forbearance  on  his  disciples,  no  time  is  lost  in 
shifting  these  duties  through  all  the  signs  of  the  zodiac  of 
propriety ;  but  an  unforgiving  servant  is  placed  at  once  in 
the  hands  of  "  the  tormentors,"  and  the  disciples  told,  "  So 
likewise  shall  my  heavenly  Father  do  also  unto  you,  if  ye 
from  your  hearts  forgive  not  every  one  his  brother  their 
trespasses."  If  it  is  only  the  calling  of  opprobrious  names 
he  approaches  the  sin  without  any  circumlocution,  and 
says,  "  Whosoever  shall  say,  thou  fool,  shall  be  in  danger 
of  hell  fire."  If  it  is  but  one  member  of  the  body  that  re- 
quires to  be  mortified,  he  threatens  the  "  whole  body"  with 
hell,  unless  that  member  be  crucified.  "  This  is  not  the 
manner  of  man,  0  Lord  God !"  It  was,  however,  the 
Saviour's  manner  of  enforcing  faith  and  obedience  ;  and 
the  effect  of  it  was — the  prevention  of  nominal  belief,  or 
the  speedy  detection  of  nominal  believers.  Under  the  min- 
istry of  Christ,  men  had  to  believe  for  eternity,  or  not  at 
all ;  for  he  kept  all  truth  and  duty  for  ever  upon  the  battle- 
ments of  heaven,  or  upon  the  brink  of  hell.  So  did  his 
apostles.  The  first  and  the  final  appeals  of  both,  on  behalf 
of  faith  and  repentance,  were,  invariably  and  directly,  to 
"  the  powers  of  the  world  to  come."  The  consequence 
was,  as  has  been  already  stated,  that  nominal  faith  did  not  4-- 
prevail  then.  I  had  no  leader  to  rally  under.  There  was  ^\ 
no  apostle  of  the  Lamb  afraid  to  mention  hell 

"To  ears  polite." 

Those  who  said,  "  I  am  of  Paul,  and  T  am  of  A  polios,"  did 
not  avow  this  preference,  because  of  any  difl'erence  of  doc- 
trine or  spirit  between  these  preachers,  on  the  subject  of 


274  NOMINAL     FAITH,     FROM    NOT 

the  wrath  to  come.  Both,  "  knowing  the  terrors  of  the 
Lord,  persuaded  men,"  and  wielded  these  terrors  with 
equal  frequency  and  fidelity.  Neither  of  them  was  an 
"  awful  preacher,"  in  the  sense  of  being — unfeeling,  or 
clamorous  in  proclaiming  the  wrath  to  come.  They  had 
weighed  that  wrath  too  deeply,  and  they  believed  it  too 
firmly,  to  brawl  or  rave  when  they  denounced  or  described 
it.  They  did,  however,  both  describe  and  denounce  it.  It 
was  not  hushed  up,  nor  hurried  over,  in  their  sermons.  It 
was  not,  indeed,  dwelt  upon,  nor  unnecessarily  dragged  into 
their  sermons  ;  but,  when  it  was  brought  unto  them,  it  came 
as  "  the  wrath  of  God  and  the  Lamb  ;" — a  solemn,  settled, 
and  eternal  reality  !  Those  who  heard  Paul  say,  "  Indig- 
nation and  wrath,  tribulation  and  anguish,  on  every  soul  of 
man  that  doeth  evil,"  durst  not  have  said  that  Paul  was  in  a 
passion.  However  any  one  shrunk  or  shuddered,  no  one 
could  calm  his  fears  by  charging  the  apostle  with  heat  or 
harshness,  when  he  exclaimed,  "  The  Lord  Jesus  shall  be 
revealed  from  heaven  with  his  mighty  angels,  in  flaming 
fire,  taking  vengeance  on  them  that  know  not  God,  and 
obey  not  the  gospel  of  our  Lord  Jesus  Christ."  This,  if 
even  uttered  in  thunder,  outspake,  like  the  Sinai  trumpet, 
all  the  thunder,  and  outshone  all  the  lightning,  of  voice  or 
visage,  which  could  accompany  it.  It  might  be  braved  by 
the  reckless,  and  disbelieved  by  the  skeptical ;  but  it  could 
not  be  evaded  nor  evaporated,  by  those  who  trembled,  by 
the  stale  pretence  of  undue  warmth  or  savage  ferocity.  It 
is  as  much  too  solemn  to  be  passion,  as  is  the  thunder  of 
the  heavens  to  be  noise.  This  description  of  the  coming  of 
Christ,  to  punish  "  with  everlasting  destruction,"  must  have 
been  uttered  almost  as  solemnly  as  if  Paul,  in  the  presence 
of  it,  had  said,  "  Behold,  he  cometh." 

Now,  of  this  manner  and  spirit  of  preaching  "  eternal 
judgment,"  there  is  by  far  too  little  in  the  present  day;  and 
the  prevalence  of  nominal  faith  is  the  proof  and  the  effect 
of  the  deficiency.  Men  could  not  remain  at  "  ease  in 
Zion,"  in  such  numbers  and  so  long,  if  the  terrors  of  the 


REALIZING     ETERNITY.  275 

Lord  were  rightly  used  "  to  persuade  men."  They  may  be 
often  and  awfully  employed  to  terrify  men  ;  and  yet  pro- 
duce no  effect,  or  only  a  bad  eflfect.  Harsh  denunciations 
of  wrath  are  just  as  likely  to  harden  the  conscience,  as 
silence  on  the  subject  of  hell  is  to  lull  conscience  asleep. 
Accordingly,  it  is  no  uncommon  thing  to  find  hell  least 
feared  where  it  is  most  familiar.  This  is  only  what  might 
be  expected.  The  terrors  of  the  Lord,  if  not  used  for  per- 
suasion, and  in  a  persuasive  spirit,  will  be  resented  or  ridi- 
culed. The  gospel,  however,  can  neither  be  preached  nor 
believed  without  the  use  of  them.  It  is  not  the  "  great 
salvation"  that  is  proclaimed,  when  heaven  only  is  opened 
and  offered.  That  is,  also,  a  salvation  from  hell ;  and, 
therefore,  it  is  compromised  and'misrepresented,  whenever 
the  wrath  to  come  is  less  exhibited  than  the  glory  to  be  re- 
vealed. It  is  even  defeated,  when  that  wrath  is  reluctantly, 
GT  hesitatingly,  or  but  slightly  hinted  at ;  for  any  appearance 
of  faltering  or  fearing,  in  the  proclamation  of  it,  hinders 
the  belief  of  it;  and  thus  prevents  the  belief  of  the  gos- 
pel. For  no  man  does  or  can  believe  the  gospel,  until  he 
believe  that  he  is  in  danger  of  perishing  eternally.  Now, 
although  the  frequent  pressing  home  of  that  danger  is  not 
the  best  way  of  producing  the  belief  of  it,  slight  references 
to  it  are  sure  to  prevent  the  fear  of  perishing ;  because 
their  slightness  is  held  to  betray  the  same  doubt  or  dislike, 
on  the  part  of  the  speaker,  as  is  felt  by  the  hearers.  They 
interpret  the  reluctance  to  touch  the  subject,  and  the  haste 
to  leave  it,  and  the  pain  evinced  while  naming  it,  as  signs 
of  secret  disbelief;  or  regard  them  as  transcripts  of  their 
own  suspicions  and  aversion.  And,  if  they  see  that  they 
are  humoured,  and  almost  countenanced  in  their  dislike  of 
the  subject,  by  the  way  in  which  it  is  hurried  over,  they 
will  soon  justify  that  dislike. 

0,  what  wisdom !  what  prudence  !  is  requisite,  in  order 
to  preach  the  gospel.  Christ  is  a  Saviour  from  eternal 
misery,  or  not  a  Saviour  at  all ;  and  yet  nothing  is  so  disbe- 
lieved as  that  misery.     The  very  silence  which  is  maintain- 


276  NOMINAL    FAITH,    FROM    NOT 

ed  on  the  subject  of  hell,  proves  how  much  it  is  disbelieved. 
The  loudness  and  violence  with  which  infidels  deny  and 
deride  hell,  betray  more  secret  dread  of  it,  than  the  silence 
of  others  indicates  faith  in  it.  The  generahty  are  silent, 
because  they  secretly  hope  or  wish  it  to  be  untrue.  They 
could  not  keep  their  thoughts  or  their  lips  so  habitually  clear 
of  the  subject,  if  it  were  not  deeply  doubted.  The  very 
hypocrites  in  Zion  could  not  be  silent  if  they  believed  in 
"  everlasting  burnings." 

How  ought  this  prevalent  unbelief  to  be  treated,  is  a 
question  of  immense  importance.  It  admits,  however,  of  a 
very  simple  answer,  if  Scripture,  and  not  vain  philosophy, 
be  consulted.  "  The  wrath  to  come"  must  be  asserted  m 
the  pulpit  as  it  is  in  the  Bible — explicitly,  solemnly,  and 
persuasively  ;  and  never  treated  controversially.  The  Sav- 
iour never  proves  its  truth  or  its  justice  by  abstract  reason- 
ings. The  Apostles  never  demonstrate,  by  arguments,  the 
certainty  or  the  necessity  of  the  hell  they  proclaim.  Both 
assert  it,  as  they  do  the  being  of  God,  in  unequivocal  and 
unqualified  terms.  They  never  recognise  nor  refer  to  any 
objection,  aversion,  doubt,  or  question,  which  any  one  might 
entertain  on  the  subject.  If  there  were,  in  their  audiences, 
those  who  professed  to  find  any  thing  in  the  divine  charac- 
ter or  government,  with  which  hell  is  inconsistent ;  or  arty 
thing  in  the  nature  of  human  guilt,  which  renders  it  unjust ; 
or  any  thing  in  the  gospel,  which  disproves  it  ;  neither 
Christ  nor  his  apostles  ever  paid  such  reasoners  the  com- 
pUment  of  reasoning  with  them.  Both  unbelievers  and 
doubters,  on  other  subjects,  were  often  and  anxiously  argued 
with.  The  Saviour  went  particularly  and  fully  into  any 
detail,  or  any  line  of  argument,  in  order  to  prove  togainsay- 
ers  his  Messiahship  and  Sonship.  And  the  Apostles  not 
only  met  all  the  popular  objections  and  prejudices  against 
the  doctrines  of  grace,  but  seem  even  to  have  anticipated 
the  more  profound  evasions  of  future  times  ;  that,  thus,  they 
might  "  cut  off  occasion,"  from  all  who  sought  occasion  for 
urging  their  feelings  or  their  philosophy  against  the  jrospel 


REALIZING    ETERNITY.  277 

of  the  grace  of  God.  But  not  thus — never  thus,  do  they 
treat  the  unbeUef  of  the  heart,  or  of  the  mind,  on  the  sub- 
ject of  helL  Like  heaven  and  God  it.  is  left  to  speak  for 
itself.  As  the  sacred  writers  never  prove,  by  reasoning, 
that  there  is  a  heaven,  neither  do  ihey  argue  the  fact  of  hell 
with  any  man.  They  no  more  think  it  necessary  to  prove 
that  eternal  misery  is  not  too  bad  to  be  true,  than  that  eter- 
nal glory  is  not  too  good  to  be  true.  The  horrors  of  the 
former  are  no  more  allowed  to  bring  its  truth  into  debate  or 
doubt,  than  the  raptures  of  the  latter  are  allowed  to  bring  its 
reality  into  question.  Both  are  placed  and  left  on  the  sin- 
gle ground  of  inspired  assertion.  Both  are  amply  described, 
but  neither  is  ever  discussed. 

'  Now  this  is  what  is  wanted.  Ministers,  and  teachers, 
and  parents,  must  say  nothing  of  hell  but  what  God  hath 
said  ;  and  that  only  in  his  own  words,  in  general,  Man  is 
not  equal  to  amplify  the  revelation  of  wrath.  He  is  not 
to  be  trusted  with  optional  freedom  in  depicting  the  hor- 
rors of  a  desolate  eternity.  He  cannot  keep  his  own  wrath 
out  of  gratuitous  descriptions  of  the  wrath  of  God  and  the 
Lamb.  Whenever,  therefore,  it  is  brought  in  as  "  a  fiery 
stream,"  it  should  be  self-evident  that  "the  breath  of  Jeho- 
vah" hath  kindled  it.  Whenever  the  "  horrible  tempest"  is 
shown,  it  should  be  seen  that  He  rains  "  the  snares,  fire, 
and  brimstone."  Whenever  a  minister  descends  into  the 
bottomless  pit  to  describe  it,  he  must  manifest  that  he  is  no 
more  in  his  element  than  was  the  "  mighty  angel"  of  the 
Apocalypse,  who  descended  to  bind  Satan  ;  and  yet,  like 
that  angel,  he  must  not  flinch  nor  falter ;  but  use  as  freely 
and  honestly  all  that  God  has  said,  as  the  angel  used  the 
"great  chain."  The  hell  of  the  Bible,  like  the  heaven  of 
the  Bible,  needs  no  colouring,  and  admits  of  no  softening. 

It  is,  therefore,  equally  pitiful  when,  in  reference  to  fu- 
ture misery,  one  minister  acquires  the  name  of  a  harsh 
preacher,  and  another  that  of  a  gentle  preacher.  He  is  un- 
wise, who  attempts  to  terrify  by  other  visions  of  hell  than 
those  which  revelation  presents ;  and  he  is  worse  than  un- 

VOL.  I. — 24 


278  NOMINAL    FAITH,    FROM   NOT 

wise,  who  is  less  ample  or  explicit  than  Christ  was.  It 
is  shameful  to  plead  the  gentleness  of  Christ,  or  the  mild 
genius  of  Christianity,  as  a  warrant  for  touching,  seldom  or 
slightly,  on  the  painful  subject  of  "  everlasting  destruction." 
This  is  a  mere  pretence.  Christ  is  the  great  preacher  of 
the  wrath  to  come.  He  spoke  more  frequently  and  more 
emphatically  of  it,  than  any  or  all  the  messengers  of  God. 
And  the  only  mildness  of  the  genius  of  the  Gospel,  on  this 
subject,  is,  the  perfect  freeness,  fulness,  and  certainty  of  the 
salvation  from  that  wrath,  which  it  proffers  and  proclaims. 
It  pretends  to  and  warrants  none  of  that  mildness,  which 
conceals  or  softens  hell.  It  makes  no  provision,  and  no  al- 
lowance, for  the  weakness  of  any  man's  nerves,  or  for  the 
delicacy  of  his  taste,  or  for  the  conjectures  of  his  reason, 
except  the  provision  for  saving  him  from  the  reality  of  that 
hell,  the  prospect  of  which  shocks  him.  Tbe  gospel  pro- 
vides amply  for  our  safety  from  hell ;  but  not  at  all  to  ex- 
empt us  from  believing  the  eternity  of  future  punishment,  or 
our  own  exposure  to  it.  Indeed,  the  truth  of  that  hell,  and  of 
our  own  danger,  is  the  very  basis  or  occasion  of  all  the  glad 
tidings  of  the  gospel.  They  are  glad  tidings  of  great  joy,  just 
because  Tophet  is  an  eternal  reality,  and  sin  an  infinite  evil. 

Let  men  know,  therefore,  what  they  are  about,  whilst 
debating,  or  doubling,  or  evading  this  point :  they  are  both 
rejecting  the  gospel,  and  treating  God  as  a  liar.  That  gos- 
pel proceeds  upon  the  very  fact  and  principle,  that  the  pun- 
ishment of  sin  is  "everlasting  destruction  from  the  presence 
of  the  Lord,  and  from  the  glory  of  his  power."  How,  then, 
can  it  be  believed,  whilst  this  is  disbelieved  ?  Believing  it 
in  order  to  be  made  better,  or  in  order  to  make  sure  of 
heaven,  is  very  proper  and  necessary  ;  but  this  is  not  enough. 
It  is  the  gospel  of  deliverance  from  the  wrath  to  come;  and 
must,  therefore,  be  believed  for  the  sake  of  that  deliverance. 
But  for  this,  it  is  not,  and  cannot  be  believed,  if  the  danger 
is  questioned. 

Here,  then,  is  the  real  cause  of  nominal  faith,  and  of  its 
prevalence.     Very  few  believe  that  they  deserve,  or  have 


REALIZING     ETERNITY.  279 

incurred,  the  wrath  of  God.  The  generality  think,  what- 
ever they  may  say,  that  they  do  not  deserve  eternal  punish- 
ment. Accordingly,  the  belief  they  give  to  the  gospel,  is 
given  to  it  as  a  moral  remedy ;  or  as  a  true  religion  ;  or  as 
an  authenticated  history.  It  is  believed,  just  as  if  there 
were  no  hell ;  or  as  if  sin  did  not  lead  to  the  place  "  pre- 
pared for  the  devil  and  his  angels."  In  a  word,  the  current 
credence  it  obtains  in  the  nation,  is  not  for  the  sake  of  what 
is  the  Jirst  purpose  for  which  Christ  died  ;  which  is,  to  "  de- 
liver from  going  down  to  the  pit." 

Here  an  important  question  arises  : — how  is  this  inveterate 
disbelief  of  danger  to  be  vanquished  ?  Now,  I  may  safely 
assert,  at  once,  that  it  never  was  vanquished  in  any  mind, 
by  abstract  reasonings  on  the  nature  or  the  desert  of  sin. 
The  cry,  "  Lord,  save,  I  perish,"  was  not  won  nor  wrung 
from  your  own  heart  by  the  force  of  moral  or  legislative 
considerations.  You  are  not  a  trophy  nor  a  monument  of 
the  power  of  abstract  truth.  It  is  not,  chiefly, because  you 
see  how  sin  affects  the  character  and  government  of  God, 
that  you  believe  the  certainty  and  the  necessity  of  eternal 
punishment.  Your  former  unbelief  on  this  point  was  borne 
down,  and  is  kept  down,  just  by  the  solemn  fact,  that  God 
has  said  that  "  the  wicked  shall  be  turned  into  hell,  where 
the  worm  dieth  not,  and  the  fire  is  not  quenched."  It  is 
the  weight  of  His  declarations,  and  not  your  own  insight 
into  the  nature  of  things,  or  into  the  philosophy  of  moral 
government,  that  fixes  your  convictions  of  hell.  Its  revealed 
truth  enables  you  to  reason  on  its  abstract  justice  ;  and  all 
the  character  of  the  great  atonement  confirms  your  reason- 
ings ;  but  it  was  on  the  single  and  solemn  ground  of  "  Thus 
saith  the  Lord,"  that  you  began  either  to  reason  or  believe. 
Your  faith,  in  this  matter,  stands  on  the  word  of  God,  and 
not  on  the  word  of  man,  nor  on  your  natural  perceptions  of 
the  eternal  fitness  of  things. 

Now,  what  won  you  to  flee  from  the  wrath  to  come,  and 
thus  to  believe  on  Christ  for  everlasting  life,  is  just  what  is 
wanted  in  the  case  of  all  nominal  believers.     They  cannot 


280  SPIRITUAL     DECLENSION,    FROM 

be  argued  nor  enticed  into  the  belief  of  their  danger.  No 
exposure  of  the  defects  of  their  faith,  will  remedy  these 
defects.  The  wisdom  of  man  is  foolishness  here,  whenever 
it  tries  to  drive  or  draw  without  considerations  "  full  of 
immortality."  We  must  have  faith  in  the  force  of  God's 
own  words,  on  the  subject  of  heaven  and  hell.  They  want 
no  helping  out  from  man.  What  is  wanted,  is,  the  full  im- 
pression of  them  ;  the  spiritual  apprehension  of  them  ;  the 
solemn  realization  of  their  tnuh  and  interest.  Then,  both 
the  formal  and  the  heartless  must  feel,  that  they  are  not 
believing  the  gospel,  whilst  they  continue  to  disbelieve  their 
own  danger  of  perishing ;  and  must  see,  that  they  are  at 
open  issue  with  God  on  a  turning  point  in  religion.  Now, 
as  even  the  most  heedless  would  not  give  himself  credit 
for  any  real  faith  in  the  gospel  if  he  doubted  and  hated  the 
doctrine  of  it  concerning  Heaven  ;  his  secret  disbehef  of 
his  doctrine  concerning  Hell,  may  and  ought  to  be  pub- 
licly charged  on  him  as  proof  of  his  unbelief. 


No.  V. 

SPIRITUAL     DECLENSION,     FROM     NOT     REALIZING 
ETERNITY. 

At  first  sight,  it  seems  surprising,  as  well  as  deplorable, 
that  we  should  ever  sink  into  heartless  formality  in  the 
worship  of  God,  or  into  cold  apathy  under  the  Word  of 
God  ;  seeing  his  word  is  the  only  substitute  we  have  for 
his  presence,  and  his  worsliip  the  chief  emblem  and  prelude 
of  heaven.  And  yet,  there  are  times,  and  these,  alas  !  too 
frequent,  when  we  pray  without  fervency,  and  praise  with- 
out gratitude,  and  hear  without  any  lively  interest.  Truths 
which  have  made  "  our  heart  burn  within  us,"  can  hardly 
fix  our  ear  then  ;  and  songs  and  supplications  which  have 
been  almost  "  unutterable,"  by  their  intensity,  are  scarcely 


NOT   REALIZING    ETERNITY.  281 

worth  Uttering  then,  owing  to  their  heartlessness.  The 
words  of  prayer  and  praise  are  the  same  ;  but  the  spirit  and 
the  Hfe  of  them  are  gone.  Even  the  natural  tones  have 
forsaken  the  terms  of  devotion.  The  very  sound  of  honest 
and  artless  feeling  is  lost. 

Now,  we  may  well  be  ashamed  of  such  declensions  of 
the  spirit  of  devotion  :  but,  ought  we  to  wonder  at  them  ? 
Is  it  really  surprising  that  the  power  of  godliness  should  thus 
evaporate,  until  the  very  form  of  it  is  ready  to  vanish  away  ? 

However  this  may  be,  we  are  surprised  as  well  as  sorry. 
We  do  wonder  that  truths  and  duties,  which  have  often  both 
interested  and  absorbed  our  whole  soul,  should  ever  become 
either  tame  or  tedious,  dim  or  dull,  to  us.  We  feel  this 
especially,  when  they  become  so,  even  whilst  we  are  not 
unholy  nor  untender  in  our  general  character  or  conduct ; 
and  when  we  cannot  trace  the  unhappy  change  of  feeling 
to  any  change  of  habits.  We  are  conscious  that  a  blight 
has  fallen  upon  our  spirit  ;  but  unconscious  of  bringing  it 
on  by  any  allowed  misconduct.  Our  character  is  much  the 
same,  as  when  our  spirit  was  lively  and  devotional  :  and, 
as  we  have  not  relinquished  nor  altered  any  of  our  religious 
principles,  we  are  amazed,  as  well  as  grieved,  that  our 
hearts  should  become  thus  alienated  from  the  power  of 
religion. 

In  this  dilemma  is  it  not  uncommon  to  have  recourse  to 
a  false  principle  of  explanation.  Some  ascribe  the  decay 
to  the  sovereign  withdrawment  of  the  Divine  Presence  ; 
meaning  by  that,  the  hiding  of  God's  countenance  from  the 
soul,  as  an  experiment  upon  the  soul.  Others,  justly  afraid 
of  resolving  into  absolute  sovereignty,  what  is  but  too  easily 
explained  by  the  weakness  of  human  nature,  ascribe  the 
decay  to  that  weakness.  They  say,  "  it  is  only  what  might 
be  expected  in  the  case  of  imperfect  creatures,  whilst  in  a 
world  so  imperfect."  Thus  they  lay  their  account  with  sink- 
ing into  occasional  deadness  and  formality ;  and  regard  the 
declension  as  a  matter  of  course,  or  of  inevitable  necessity. 

This  solution  is  as  unwise  as  the  other  is  impious.  Not, 
24* 


282  SPIRITUAL     DECLENSION,     FROM 

however,  that  there  are  no  circumstances  which  upset  the 
power  of  godliness  for  a  time.  There  are  :  and,  under 
them,  the  Christian  is,  perhaps,  quite  as  much  an  object  of 
pity  as  of  blame.  The  shock  of  sudden  calamity,  or  a 
severe  prostration  of  strength  and  spirits,  is  almost  sure  to 
overpower,  or  impair,  the  spirituality  of  the  mind.  Neither 
devotional  habits  nor  feelings,  which  have  been  formed  in 
health  and  prosperity,  can  accommodate  themselves,  at  once, 
to  pain  and  poverty.  They  are  both  shaken  and  shattered 
for  a  time.  And,  then,  it  is  not  improper  nor  imprudent  to 
take  the  full  comfort  of  the  gracious  assurance,  that  our 
pitying  Father  "  knowelh  our  frame,  and  remembereth  that 
we  are  dust." 

It  is  not,  however,  safe  nor  wise  to  have  recourse  to  this 
principle,  when  neither  the  body  nor  the  mind  is  broken  down 
by  care.  Any  decay  of  spirituality  that  occurs,  whilst  we 
are  in  ordinary  circumstances  of  character  and  condition, 
will  be  found  to  spring  from  inattention  to  eternitv. 

This  is  a  much  more  frequent  and  fruitful  source  of  re- 
ligious declension  than  we  are  apt  to  suspect,  or  willing  to 
believe  ;  because  we  forget  or  overlook  the  degree  in  which 
the  light  of  eternity  was  upon  divine  things,  when  we  were 
first  and  most  affected  by  them.  This  is  the  real  secret  of 
those  relapses,  which  we  cannot  account  for,  when  there 
has  been  no  moral  defection.  The  light  of  eternity  has 
been  suffered  to  pass  off  from  the  objects  of  faith  and  the 
acts  of  devotion. 

If  you  are  not  fully  aware  of  this,  or  did  not  observe  how 
much  a  sense  of  etc^rnity  blended  with  all  your  first  and 
strongest  impressions  of  divine  things,  the  consideration  of 
it  will  amply  repay  you  for  both  the  time  and  thought  it 
calls  for. 

Now,  at  whatever  point  of  truth  your  serious  impressions 
began,  the  force  of  that  point  was  derived  from  eternity. 
Even  if  your  heart  was  first  moved  and  melted  by  the  love 
of  Chri.sl,  this  is  the  fact  of  the  case.  You,  indeed,  thought 
of  nothing,  at  the  moment,  but  the  glories,  grace,  and  sacri- 


NOT     REALIZING    ETERNITY.  283 

fice  of  the  Lamb  of  God.  All  your  wonder  and  gratitude 
were  concentrated  upon  his  person  and  work.  He  was 
"  All  and  All,  and  altogether  lovely,"  in  the  views  which 
then  captivated  and  conquered  your  heart.  And,  had  any  one 
said  to  you,  at  that  sacred  moment,  that  you  were  thinking 
of  eternity,  you  would  have  replied,  "  I  think,  I  can  think, 
of  nothing  but  the  amazing  and  melting  love  of  my  Sav- 
iour ;  and  of  my  own  guilt  and  folly,  in  not  thinking  of  it 
sooner," 

There  was,  however,  much  reference  to  eternity  in  all 
this  process  and  pressure  of  thought  and  feeling.  You,  in- 
deed, were  not  conscious  of  it ;  because,  like  sunlight  on 
flowers,  the  light  of  eternity  does  not  divide  our  attention 
between  itself  and  the  objects  it  shines  on.  It  was,  how- 
ever, there  ;  blended  with,  and  beautifying,  every  view  of 
the  Saviour  and  salvation.  Accordingly,  had  you  analyzed 
your  own  thoughts  at  the  time,  or  afterward,  you  would 
have  found  that  they  had  not  only  glanced  alternately  at 
the  past  and  future  eternity  of  the  love  of  Christ ;  but,  also, 
that  its  eternity  was  the  very  crown  of  its  worth  and  glory. 
For,  had  He  not  loved  for  eternity,  and  redeemed  for  eterni- 
ty, you  could  not  have  thought  nor  felt  as  you  did.  Had 
any  doubt  of  eternity  itself,  or  of  the  eternal  duration  of  his 
love,  mingled  with  your  meditations,  they  would  not  have 
been  transporting  nor  transforming  in  their  influence. 

There  was,  however,  more  than  an  undoubting  recog- 
nition of  eternity,  in  your  adoring  views  of  the  Saviour, 
They  were  based  upon,  and  blended  with,  a  settled  and 
solemn  persuasion  of  the  immortality  of  your  soul.  Your 
spirit,  although  unconscious  of  its  own  transitions  between 
eternity  and  the  cross,  was  yet,  and  all  the  while,  glancing 
from  the  one  to  the  other,  and  linking  both  together.  Its 
movements  were  too  numerous  and  rapid  to  be  felt  as  tran- 
sitions of  thought  or  feeling,  at  the  moment ;  but,  now  that 
you  begin  to  analyze  them,  you  perceive  that  you  were  em- 
ploying the  glories  of  the  cross  to  soften  eternity,  and  the 
glories  of  eternity  to  enshrine  the  cross.     Thus  all  your 


284  BPIRITUAL     DECLENSION,     FROM 

most  realizing  and  influential  views  of  the  Lamb  slain, 
were  full  of  immortality.  Eternity  was  all  around  the 
cross,  as  the  flood  around  the  ark  ;  and  though  your  eye,  in 
its  intended  and  intense  gaze,  was  fixed,  like  the  dove's,  on 
the  refuge  ;  like  hers  also,  it  darted  sidelong  and  swift  and 
perpetual  glances  on  the  surrounding  waters. 

Now,  as  this  was  the  real  character  of  your  first  and 
finest  views  of  the  Saviour  and  salvation,  and  as  they  de- 
rived so  much  of  their  power  and  glory  from  their  con- 
nexion with  eternity,  it  is  not  wonderful  that  both  their 
power  and  their  glory  should  decay,  whenever  you  lose 
sight  of  eternity,  or  cease  to  look  at  the  cross  in  the  light 
of  it. 

In  like  manner,  if  your  personal  piety  began  in  a  deep 
sense  of  the  value  of  your  soul,  that  solemn  conviction  de- 
rived its  chief  solemnity  from  eternity.  It  was  more  than 
based  on,  or  blended  with,  the  consciousness  of  immortali- 
ty :  it  was  "  full"  of  immortality.  It  would  have  been 
powerless,  yea,  been  nothing,  but  for  eternity.  For,  what- 
ever you  thought  or  felt,  in  regard  to  any  or  all  the  powers 
of  the  mind,  it  was  the  fact  of  their  being  eternal  powers, 
that  arrested  and  riveted  your  attention.  It  was  memory, 
as  remembering  for  ever  ;  it  was  imagination,  as  creative  for 
ever  ;  it  was  reason,  as  reasoning  for  ever  ;  it  was  con- 
science, as  judging  for  ever — that  awed  and  amazed  you. 
Eternal  consciousness !  eternal  thought !  eternal  feeling ! 
was  the  absorbing  consideration.  It  was  not  mental  power, 
as  mental ;  nor  moral  sense,  as  moral ;  but  the  eternity  of 
mind  and  conscience,  that  impressed  you.  It  was  not  the 
degree  in  which  the  soul  was  capable  of  enjoying  or  suf- 
fering ;  but  the  "  everlasting"  duration  of  future  joy  or  wo, 
that  determined  you  to  care  for  your  soul.  Accordingly, 
had  its  faculties  been  both  fewer  and  feebler,  and  even  in- 
capable of  any  improvement,  here  or  hereafter,  their  eter- 
nity would  have  stamped  and  sustained  them  as  infinitely 
valuable,  in  your  estimation.  And,  as  they  must  advance 
for  ever,  as  well  as  endure  for  ever,  you  certainly  did  not 


NOT    REALIZING    ETERNITY.  285 

overrate  their  value,  when  you  resolved  not  to  lose  your 
soul. 

Now,  if  these  solemn  views  of  the  immortality  of  your 
spirit  have  been  allowed  to  pass  away,  or  to  languish  into 
cold  and  heartless  forms  of  thought,  ii  is  not  surprising  that 
you  should  kneel  at  the  mercy-seat  without  enjoyment,  and 
at  the  cross  without  feeling.  For,  how  can  the  soul,  when 
it  has  become  almost  insensible  to  its  own  immortal  nature, 
and  immense  value,  and  amazing  faculties,  feel  alive  in 
prayer  or  meditation  ?  How  can  the  throne  of  grace  be 
attractive,  or  the  cross  dear,  "  as  in  the  days  of  old,"  when 
you  no  longer  come  to  them  under  a  deep  or  distinct  con- 
sciousness of  your  immortality  ? 

The  want,  or  the  weakness,  of  this,  is  just  as  incompat- 
ible with  a  devotional  spirit,  as  the  want  or  weakness  of 
humility,  penitence,  or  faith.  Now,  you  are  fully  aware, 
that  a  self-righteous,  or  a  self-sufficient  spirit,  does  not,  and 
cannot,  find  communion  with  God,  nor  comfort  from  the 
promises.  You  know  well,  that  if  you  forget  your  guilt  or 
weakness,  you  are  neither  successful  nor  urgent  in  prayer. 
Accordirjgly,  you  find  it  necessary,  and  make  it  convenient, 
to  keep  up  an  habitual  sense  of  your  sinfulness  and  un  worthi- 
ness, that  thus  you  may  be  humble  before  God,  whenever 
you  appear  before  Him  in  the  sanctuary  or  the  closet.  All 
this  is  as  it  should  be.  The  habitual  consciousness  of  im- 
mortality is,  however,  as  necessary  as  humility.  Indeed, 
humility  will  not  be  very  deep,  when  the  sense  of  immortal- 
ity is  dim.  The  latter  is  not,  indeed,  like  the  former,  one 
of  the  "  graces"  of  the  Spirit ;  but  it  is  the  element  in 
which  they  were  all  born,  and  out  of  which  none  of  them 
thrive  well.  We  are  not  repenting  well,  when  we  are  not 
repenting  for  eternity  ;  nor  believing  well,  when  we  are  not 
believing  for  eternity  ;  nor  praying  well,  when  we  are  not 
praying  with  an  express  reference  to  eternity. 

It  is,  therefore,  of  supreme  importance  to  acquire  and 
keep  up  a  vivid  sense  of  immortality,  if  you  would  keep  up 
the  power  of  your  principles,  and  the  exercises  of  your 


286  SPIRITUAL    DECLENSION,    FROM 

graces.  It  is  as  an  immorial  spirit,  that  your  soul  will  be 
most  reverential  in  the  presence  of  "  the  Father  of  spirits  ;" 
and  most  humble  in  the  presence  of  "  the  Father  of  mercies  ;" 
and  most  believing  in  the  presence  of  "  the  Father  of  lights." 
It  is  as  an  immortal  spirit,  it  will  best  worship  the  Eternal 
Spirit  "  in  spirit  and  truth." 

If,  again,  your  personal  piety  began  in  deep  and  solemn 
convictions  of  the  evil  of  sin,  they,  too,  derived  both  their 
depth  and  solemnity  from  the  fact,  that  the  punishment  of 
sin  is  eternal.  This  is  true,  even  if  your  convictions  arose 
chiefly  from  the  manifestation  of  the  evil  of  sin,  which  is 
given  by  the  cross  of  Christ.  Now,  nowhere  else  does  sin 
appear  so  "  exceeding  sinful,"  as  in  the  agony  and  ignominy 
of  the  Saviour.  That  his  blood  was  required  in  order  to 
atone  for  it,  throws  every  other  proof  of  its  evil  into  the 
shade  ;  and  is  the  only  proof  that  silences  all  the  questions 
and  equivocations  of  unbelief.  Abstract  reasonings  about 
sin  being  an  infinite  evil — because  committed  against  an 
infinite  God  ;  and  because  its  tendency  is  to  dethrone  God  ; 
and  because  its  nature  is  to  go  on  from  bad  to  worse  for 
ever  and  ever — do  not,  whatever  be  the  cause  of  their  failure, 
brinir  home  an  ahidins  conviction  of  the  evil  of  sin.  How- 
ever  true  the  logic,  or  legitimate  the  conclusions,  of  such 
reasonings  may  be,  sophistry  can  wind  its  way  through,  or 
wing  its  way  over  them  all,  if  they  are  not  hung  upon  the 
cross  of  Christ.  Accordingly,  those  who  see  nothing  in 
the  cross  but  a  martyr's  altar,  see  nothing  in  sin  but  a  tem- 
porary evil,  pardonable  apart  from  all  atonement.  None 
of  their  views  of  God  or  man  alarm  them  at  sin  ;  except 
when  it  is  so  gross  as  to  be  disgraceful,  or  so  horrid  as  to 
be  shocking. 

But  even  where  Calvary  produces  a  conviction  of  sin, 
which  Sinai  could  not  do  ;  and  the  gospel  a  fear  of  sin, 
which  the  law  cannot  imi)iant,  both  derive  their  point  and 
pow(ir  from  eternity.  And  in  this  way — the  punishment 
of  sin  being  eternal  in  its  duration,  when  it  is  inflicted  upon 
sinners,  what  must  have  been  the  amount  and  intensity  of 


NOT    REALIZING    ETERNITY.  287 

the  Saviour's  sufferings,  when  his  soul  was  made  "  an  offer- 
ing for  sin  ?"  "  Wrath  to  the  uttermost"  is  not  inflicted  by- 
God,  for  the  sake  of  trying  what  its  "  uttermost"  is.  Nei- 
ther the  degree  nor  the  duration  of  it  in  hell,  is,  or  can  be, 
any  pleasure  to  Him.  He  has  actually  sworn  by  his  life, 
that  he  has  "  no  pleasure"  in  the  death  of  a  sinner.  Its 
very  uttermost  is,  therefore,  the  very  least  that,  in  justice  to 
his  own  character  and  government,  he  can  inflict.  And,  as 
that  least  is  eternal,  there  must  have  been  in  the  Saviour's 
"  CUP,"  a  bitterness,  unspeakable  and  inconceivable  to  men 
or  angels.  If,  however,  this  view  of  the  evil  of  sin  belongs 
to  that  class  of  proofs,  which  do  not  implant  abiding  convic- 
tions, because  they  do  not  impale  themselves  beyond  all 
controversy,  still,  it  is  from  eternity,  in  some  form,  that  the 
death  of  Christ  derives  its  unspeakable  power  of  "  convin- 
cing of  sin."  We,  indeed,  may  not  see  nor  feel  this,  whilst 
beholding  the  Lamb  of  God  taking  away  the  sin  of  the 
world.  The  glory  veiled,  and  the  vials  broken,  and  the 
agonies  endured,  on  that  solemn  occasion,  seem  more  than 
enough,  without  a  reference  to  eternity,  to  account  for  all 
our  deepest  convictions  of  the  evil  of  sin.  The  darkness 
and  tempest  around  the  cross,  whilst  they  cover  and  con- 
vulse the  heavens  and  the  earth,  seem  to  render  all  refer- 
ence to  the  eternal  "  blackness  of  darkness"  unnecessary. 
But  even  on  Calvary,  and  at  the  very  crisis  of  the  atoning 
sacrifice,  eternity  is  present  to  the  mind,  however  much  it 
may  be  absorbed  with  the  sufferings  of  Christ.  For,  were 
a  doubt  of  the  eternal  punishment  of  sin  to  flash  across  the 
mind,  at  that  moment;  or  were  the  wrath  he  redeemed 
from  not  eternal  ;  both  the  dread  and  the  hatred  of  sin, 
which  the  cross  inspires,  would  not  be  what  they  are  in 
the  heart  of  believers.  But  we  are,  however  unconsciously 
and  unintentionally,  glancing  from  time  to  time  at  the  eter- 
nity of  the  wrath  which  He  is  delivering  from.  There  is 
mingled  with  all  our  emotions  of  grief  and  gratitude,  a  real, 
though  secret,  reference  to  the  eternity  of  misery,  which, 
but  for  his  atonement,  would  have  been  our  inevitable  por- 


288  SPIRITUAL    DECLENSION,    FROM 

lion  ;  and  to  the  eternity  of  happiness  which,  by  faith  in  his 
atonement,  may  be  our  inheritance. 

This  is  only  saying  in  other  words,  that  we  are  not  in- 
sensible to  the  design  of  the  atonement,  whilst  most  affected 
by  its  solemnities.  Indeed,  the  very  reason  why  our  thoughts 
and  feelings  are  so  concentrated  on  the  cross,  and  so  ab- 
sorbed by  the  wonders  of  redemption,  is  because  the  re- 
demption of  the  cross  is  eternal.  For,  were  it  not  so, 
neither  its  attraction  nor  its  influence  could  be  so  powerful. 
It  being,  therefore,  self-evident  that  eternity  set  the  con- 
firming seal  upon  those  convictions  of  the  evil  and  danger 
of  sin,  which  shut  us  up  to  Christ  for  pardon,  and  to  the 
Spirit  for  sanclification,  it  is  certain  that  sin,  if  shifted  out 
of  this  light,  will  not  be  so  dreaded  as  to  endear  the  cross, 
nor  so  hated  as  to  honour  the  Holy  Spirit.  For  as  we  should 
not  have  fled  to  the  Saviour  or  to  the  Sanctifier,  had  we  not 
seen  the  flaming  sword  of  the  law  in  the  hand  of  eternity, 
neither  shall  we  cleave  to  them  steadfastly,  if  we  cease  to 
view  sin  in  this  connexion.  Nor  is  this  all :  there  is  no 
small  danger  of  even  tampering  with  sin,  if  it  be  not  looked 
at  in  this  light.  All  backsliding  of  heart  and  life  is  brought 
on  by  losing  sight  of  eternity.  No  one  forsakes  "  the  foun- 
tain of  living  waters,"  whilst  its  waters  sparkle  with  the  light 
of  eternity.  No  one  drinks  from  polluted  streams,  until  he 
has  shaded  them  from  that  light. 

If,  again,  your  personal  piety  began  in  impressive  and 
exalted  views  of  the  divine  character  and  government,  it  was 
eternity  that  invested  them  with  power  and  glory.  What- 
ever lovely  view  of  God  first  affected  and  won  your  heart, 
the  perfection  of  its  beauty  was  in  the  fact,  that  "  tliis  God 
is  our  God,  for  ever  and  ever."  Whatever  solemn  view  of 
God  awed  your  spirit,  its  weight  lay  in  the  consideration, 
that  "  from  everlasting,"  such  had  been  his  majesty,  and 
"  to  everlasting,"  such  it  would  be.  Whatever  attraction  or 
terror  brought  you  under  the  shadow  of  his  wings,  the  full 
sense  of  safety  came  from  this,  "  the  eternal  God  is  thy  ref- 
uge."    And  whenever  you  have  felt  through  all  your  soul, 


NOT    REALIZING     ETERNITY.'  289 

that  his  "  loving  kindness  is  better  than  life,"  it  was  the 
eternity  of  it  that  eclipsed  the  charms  of  life,  and  softened 
the  aspect  of  death. 

The  fact  is,  that,  in  all  our  first  intentional  and  deliberate 
contemplations  of  God,  and  approaches  to  God,  we  were 
thinking  and  acting  with  an  express  reference  to  eternity  : 
for,  at  first,  they  had  nothing  else  to  terminate  upon.  Now, 
that  we  have  a  name,  or  a  place,  or  both,  to  maintain  in  the 
church  and  the  world,  our  prayers  and  meditations  often 
terminate  on  them.  Our  immediate  solicitude  often  goes 
no  farther  than  to  be  kept  from  forfeiting  or  disgracing  our 
profession ;  whereas,  before  we  made  a  public  profession 
of  religion,  it  went  all  the  length  of  eternal  safety  at  once. 
Now,  however,  we  usually  advance  to  this  final  point,  step 
by  step.  It  is,  of  course,  still  our  goal :  but,  at  first,  it  was 
both  our  goal  and  our  starting-place.  We  began  and  ended 
our  devotional  exercises,  with  an  express  regard  to  our 
future  state.  We  had  not  then  given  to  the  world  or  the 
church,  solemn  pledges  of  faith  or  repentance.  We  had 
not  committed  ourselves,  publicly,  to  any  creed,  service,  or 
connexion.  All  our  piety  was  then  personal ;  and  irre- 
sponsible to  man.  It  implicated  the  character  of  no  church, 
nor  the  tendency  of  any  system.  All  its  actings  had  their 
source  and  centre  in  our  individual  salvation.  But  now 
they  have  other  bearings  and  motives  ;  and  these,  although 
not  different  from  the  former,  are  yet  distinct  enough  to 
divide  our  attention  between  time  and  eternity.  Accord- 
ingly, many  of  our  prayers,  and  more  of  our  thoughts,  ter- 
minate upon  present  consistency,  rather  than  upon  future 
safety ;  upon  living  well,  rather  than  upon  dying  well. 

This,  of  course,  is  not  to  be  regretted.  Our  daily  prayers 
and  meditations  ought  to  bear,  with  point  and  power,  on 
the  duties  and  trials  of  the  day.  We  cannot  die  happy,  if 
we  do  not  live  to  some  good  purpose.  It  is,  however, 
equally  true,  that  the  concentration  of  all  our  solicitude  upon 
a  godly  life,  is  not  the  best  way  of  maintaining  personal 
godliness.    More  than  effort  is  necessary,  in  order  to  follow 

VOL.  I. — 25 


290  FAITH,     BELIEVING     UNTO 

holiness  well.  Motives  must  be  freely  admitted,  if  niles 
and  laws  are  to  be  cheerfully  or  impartially  obeyed.  In  a 
word  :  our  time  will  not  be  well  spent,  if  our  eternity  be 
seldom  realized.  Whilst,  therefore,  it  would  be  highly  im- 
proper to  lessen  our  attention  to  the  practical  duties  of  life 
or  godliness,  it  is  also  highly  imprudent  to  allow  even  them 
to  divert  our  attention  from  eternity.  But  for  its  solemn  in- 
fluence, we  had  never  believed  nor  obeyed  the  gospel  from 
the  heart ;  and,  therefore,  that  influence  must  be  cherished, 
if  we  would  continue  to  believe  or  obey.  Having  begun  as 
immortal,  we  must  not  go  on  as  mortal.  Having  set  out  as 
the  children  of  eternity,  we  must  not  subside  into  mere 
children  of  time.  That  would  be  another  form  of  the  Gala- 
tian  error.     Gal.  iii.  3. 


No.  VI. 

FAITH,     BELIEVING     UNTO     ETERNAL     LIFE. 

Well  might  the  believing  of  the  primitive  Christians  be 
called,  "  precious  faith,"  and  "  most  holy  faith  :"  for  its  in- 
fluence upon  their  spirits  was  equally  soothing  and  cheer- 
ing ;  and  upon  iheir  character,  equally  ennobling  and  sancti- 
fying. No  man  can  think  lightly  of  their  joy  or  peace  in 
believing.  Their  joy  was  "  unspeakable  and  full  of  glory ;" 
and  their  peace  surpassed  "all  understanding."  Every  one 
whose  heart  has  ever  ached,  whose  conscience  has  ever 
smarted,  whose  spirits  have  ever  been  low,  can  and  must 
envy  such  joy  and  peace.  Even  our  modern  Balaams, 
who  are  absorbed  in  the  love  of  the  world,  must  ac- 
knowledge that  this  is  a  joy  which  the  world  cannot  give, 
and  a  peace  which  they  do  not  find  ;  for  even  thoy  have 
intervals  of  depression  and  pain  which  quite  qualify  them, 


ETERNAL     LIFE.  291 

at  the  time,  to  comprehend  how  the  first  Christians  were 
happier  in  poverty,  than  they  are  with  wealth.  And,  if 
worldlings  can  judge  thus,  from  mere  "  vexation  of  spirit," 
no  wonder  if  we  who  have  had,  in  addition  to  our  share  of 
that  vexation,  spiritual  discoveries  of  our  guilt  and  danger, 
should  envy  the  spiritual  happiness  of  the  primitive  be- 
lievers. We  can  appreciate  their  joy  as  saints,  because 
we  have  experienced  something  of  their  sorrow^s  and  fears 
as  sinners.  Our  souls  have  been  in  their  souls'  place,  when 
"  the  iron  entered"  into  them  ;  and,  therefore,  we  naturally 
wish  our  souls  to  be  also  in  their  place,  when  all  their 
wounds  were  healed,  and  all  their  fears  dispelled.  We 
have  joined  them  in  the  solemn  question,  "  What  shall  I  do 
to  be  saved  ?"  and,  therefore,  we  wish  to  join  them  in  the 
triumphant  song,  "  Unto  him  who  loved  us,  and  washed  us 
from  our  sins  in  his  own  blood."  We  have  had  fellowship 
of  spirit  with  them  in  the  piercing  cry,  "  Lord  save,  I 
perish ;"  and  we  desire  communion  with  them  in  the  grate- 
ful acknowledgment,  "He  hath  saved  us,  and  called  us 
with  a  holy  calling."  We  have  been  partakers  of  their 
fears  of  the  wrath  to  come  ;  and,  therefore,  we  long  to  be 
partakers  of  their  good  and  lively  hope  of  the  glory  to  be 
revealed. 

Not  that  we  are  utter  strangers  to  all  peace  or  joy  in 
believing.  It  is  because  we  have  tasted  something  of  both, 
that  we  are  so  intent  on  ''  drinking  abundantly"  of  the  cup 
of  salvation.  The  difference  between  our  spiritual  happi- 
ness, and  that  of  the  first  believers,  is  not  one  of  kind,  but 
of  degree-  They  seem  to  have  had  an  abiding  spirit  of 
adoption ;  an  abiding  sense  of  pardon  and  acceptance  ;  an 
abiding  witness  of  the  Holy  Spirit ;  an  abiding  confidence 
in  the  wisdom  of  Providence  and  the  sufficiency  of  grace. 
I  mean,  abiding,  as  compared  with  the  extreme  changeable- 
ness  of  modern  joy  and  peace.  Their  happiness  was  not 
absolutely  unchangeable,  nor  uniform  ;  but  their  alternations 
of  hope  and  fear — of  light  and  darkness — of  assurance  and 
doubt,  were  neither  so  great  nor  any  thing  like  so  frequent 


292  FAITH,     BELIEVING    UNTO 

as  our  changes.  This  is  so  true  and  striking,  that  we  have 
often  questioned  the  reality  of  our  own  faith,  on  the  single 
ground  of  its  failing  to  produce  such  joy  and  peace  as  they 
experienced.  Indeed,  we  are  sometimes  tempted  to  sus- 
pect, that  much  of  their  comfort  must  have  sprung  from  the 
miraculous  gifts  of  the  Spirit,  as  well  as  from  his  gracious 
influences  ;  and  that,  thus,  it  is  impossible  to  acquire,  now, 
so  much  enjoyment.  This,  however,  even  if  true  to  a  far 
greater  extent  than  can  be  proved  or  suspected,  was  coun- 
terbalanced by  the  peculiar  and  manifold  trials  of  the  prim- 
itive Christians.  Any  miraculous  gifts  which  the  gener- 
ality had,  were  not  more  than  a  counterpoise  to  their  fiery 
trials,  from  which  we  are  exempt.  Our  dispensation  of 
Providence  is  a  better  boon,  and  more  adapted  to  promote 
spiritual  enjoyment,  than  their  dispensation  of  the  Spirit — 
so  far  it  was  miraculous.  Accordingly,  neither  their  joy 
nor  peace  is  ever  explained,  by  a  reference  to  their  gifts, 
but  always  ascribed  to  the  abundance  of  grace.  As  the 
Saviour  taught  the  apostles  and  evangelists  to  rejoice,  "  be- 
cause their  names  were  written  in  heaven,"  so  they  taught 
their  converts  to  find  their  comfort  in  the  everlasting  gospel 
itself,  and  not  in  evanescent  endowments.  We  must  not 
look  at  circumstances,  therefore,  for  the  secret  of  that 
"  strong  consolation"  which  was  so  common  in  the  apos- 
tolic churches.  Nothing  that  was  supernatural  in  their  lot, 
exceeded  what  was  trying  to  flesh  and  blood  in  it.  As  on 
the  globe,  the  greatest  seas  are  hung  opposite  the  greatest 
mountains,  to  balance  them,  so  floods  of  affliction  were  not 
more  than  counterpoised  by  miracles. 

What,  then,  was  tlie  real  secret  of  that  copious,  calm,  and 
holy  enjoyment,  which  the  first  believers  so  habitually  pos- 
sessed ?  They  had  no  foundation  of  hope,  that  we  have 
not :  no  warrant  or  welcome  to  build  on  the  Rock  of  Ages, 
that  we  have  not :  no  })romises  nor  prospects,  that  we  have 
not.  Jesus  Christ  is  tlic  same  in  our  "  day,"  as  lie  was  in 
their  "  yesterday."  The  Tree  of  J.ifo  bonds  its  loaded  and 
luxuriant  branches,  as  fully  down  to  our  hands,  as  it  did  to 


ETERNAL    LIFE.  293 

their  hands.  Why  is  it,  then,  that  whilst  we  see  those 
who  came  first  around  that  tree,  healed  by  its  leaves,  and 
cheered  by  its  fruit,  many  of  us  are  afraid  to  taste,  and 
more  of  us  but  half-healed  and  half-refreshed  ?  Now,  the 
fact  is,  they  "  eat"  for  the  express  and  immediate  purpose 
that  they  might  "  Live  for  ever."  Their  faith  was,  from 
the  beginning  to  the  end,  a  direct  "  looking  for  the  mercy 
of  our  Lord  Jesus  Christ  unto  eternal  life." 

This  fact,  thus  stated,  may  not  strike  you  at  first  sight. 
There  is,  however,  more  in  it  than  meets  the  eye  at  once. 
Immediate  and  express  believing  for  eternal  life,  is  not  so 
common  nor  so  habitual  as  it  seems.  All  real  faith  has,  of 
course,  eternal  life  as  its  grand  and  final  object ;  and,  in 
this  respect,  we,  as  much  as  the  first  believers,  have,  as  the 
end  of  our  faith,  "  the  salvation"  of  our  souls,  "  with  eter- 
nal joy."  But  if  we  make  this  a  remote  object,  and  if  they 
made  it  their  immediate  object,  there  will,  there  must,  be 
a  diflference  between  our  faith  and  theirs,  as  to  degree, 
which  cannot  fail  to  produce  a  corresponding  difference  of 
comfort.  Now,  what  is  the  sober  fact,  in  regard  to  the  or- 
dinary and  everyday  exercise  of  our  faith  in  Christ  ?  The 
truth  is,  it  neither  embraces  nor  aims  at  much  beyond  safety 
for  the  day;  and  the  consequence  is,  that  it  gathers  but 
little  strength  from  such  exercise.  On  days  of  peculiar 
trial  or  temptation,  it  is  put  upon  the  stretch,  and  compelled 
to  draw  largely  upon  the  provisions  of  the  everlasting  cov- 
enant. In  like  manner,  on  days  of  peculiar  refreshing  in 
the  sanctuary,  it  is  charmed  into  lively  exercise  and  lofty 
aspiration.  But,  in  general,  these  extraordinary  actings  of 
faith  are  called  forth  by  extraordinary  circumstances  ;  and, 
accordingly,  whilst  we  are  not  much  tried  or  tempted,  nor 
powerfully  stirred  up  by  spirit-stirring  appeals,  we  put  forth 
no  more  faith  than  just  what  will  keep  us  from  going  back 
in  religion  ;  and,  alas,  not  always  so  much  !  Now,  such 
tame  and  restricted  believing  cannot  lead  to  much  or  strong 
consolation.  It  is  not  conversant  with  the  sources  of  spirit- 
ual comfort.  Paul,  with  all  his  charity,  would  not  say  to 
25* 


294  FAITH,     BELIEVING     UNTO 

US,  whilst  our  faith  was  thus  idle,  "  Now  the  God  of  hope 
fill  you  with  joy  and  peace  in  believing."  Such  believing 
would  incur  his  censure,  or  throw  him  upon  his  knees  to 
pray  for  an  increase  of  our  faith. 

We  must,  however,  go  still  deeper  into  the  ordinary  state 
of  our  minds,  before  we  can  see  clearly  the  grand  cause  of 
the  diflerence  between  the  degree  of  our  own  comfort,  and 
that  of  the  first  believers.  Now  our  tendency  is,  to  defer 
believing  for  eternity,  until  we  come  to  the  verge  of  eterni- 
ty. We  do  not  like  to  bring  the  matter  of  final  safety  to  a 
full  issue  every  day ;  nor  to  go  far  into  it  any  day,  whilst 
we  feel  no  pressing  occasion.  Like  those  vi'ho  shrink  from 
making  their  last  will,  lest  such  a  distinct  recognition  of 
their  mortality  should  shorten  their  life,  we  are  inclined  to 
leave  the  question  of  our  personal  safety  unsettled,  whilst 
we  are  in  health.  We  have  no  objection  to  such  a  state  of 
mind,  from  day  to  day,  as  would  furnish  all  the  materials  for 
dying  well,  if  a  sudden  summons  should  come.  We  are 
even  willing  to  be,  to  a  considerable  extent,  "  as  men  wait- 
ing for  the  coming  of  their  Lord."  Not,  however,  alas ! 
because  we  long  or  wish  for  his  coming;  we  do  not  desire 
it,  until  we  have  no  other  prospect ;  but  we  do  feel  the  ne- 
cessity of  not  forgetting  it,  nor  preparation  for  it  altogether. 
We  dread  the  bare  idea  of  being  found  "  asleep,"  or  with 
"lamps  gone  out,"  when  our  Lord  cometh.  We  wish  to 
have  our  lamps  so  far  filled  and  trimmed,  that  they  shall 
l)urst  into  a  steady  flame,  the  moment  we  are  called  to  meet 
the  Bridegroom.  This  is,  however,  almost  all  that  we  can 
say,  with  perfect  truth,  concerning  the  habitual  tone  of  our 
piety.  We  leave  much  to  l)e  done  and  settled  on  our  death- 
bed. We  content  ourselves  with  doing  pretty  well  from 
day  to  day  ;  and  postpone  to  our  last  days,  the  full  settle- 
ment of  our  personal  interest  in  Christ.  So  much  uncer- 
tainty do  we  allow  to  hang  over  this  question,  that  we  actu- 
ally promise  to  cro^^  d  the  close  of  life  with  mightier  and  more 
pointed  acts  of  faith  on  the  Son  of  God,  than  any  that  we  put 
forth  now.     And  we  feel  that  it  will  be  necessary  to  do  so 


ETERNAL   LIFE.  295 

then,  if  we  would  be  either  triumphant  or  tranquil  in  death. 
Hence  the  intense  solicitude  we  occasionally  pour  into  that 
hymn, 

"  0  for  an  overcoming  faith, 
To  cheer  my  dying  hours  !" 

Now  all  this  shows  how  little  immediate  and  express 
reference  our  daily  faith  has  to  eternal  life.  It  terminates 
more  on  present  comfort  than  on  future  safety  ;  on  moment- 
ary ease,  than  on  everlasting  glory.  And  then — it  is  so 
easy  to  believe  for  all  the  daily  mercy  and  grace  which  we 
feel  in  need  of,  whilst  there  is  nothing  very  trying  in  our 
lot,  that  our  faith  is  not  able  to  meet  emergencies,  when 
they  come  unexpectedly  upon  us.  In  fact,  we  suspect  that 
it  is  little  better  than  unbelief,  when  we  feel  how  it  fails, 
whenever  we  are  compelled  to  look  death  steadfastly  in  the 
face.  I  pray  you  to  mark  this  usual  effect  of  the  prospect 
of  death,  on  our  ordinary  faith.  When  any  thing  like  a  mortal 
qualm  quivers  around  the  heart ;  or  any  disorder  assumes  a 
fatal  aspect ;  or  any  stroke  of  death  falls  so  near  us  as  to  stun 
us,  or  as  to  startle  us  into  a  keen  sense  of  personal  and  pres- 
sing danger,  we  naturally  betake  ourselves  to  the  exercise 
of  believing  prayer.  Knowing  that  to  be  our  only  resource, 
we  flee  to  it  at  once.  But,  lo  !  all  is  hurry,  and  flutter,  and 
confusion,  in  our  spirit.  We  seem  to  have  no  faith  !  Like 
Hezekiah,  we  turn  our  face  to  the  wall,  and  weep  bitterly ; 
we  are  so  shocked  to  find  that  we  had  contented  ourselves 
with  a  kind  of  faith  which  seldom,  or  but  slightly,  faced  the 
dread  solemnities  of  death  and  eternity ;  or  with  a  degree 
of  faith,  which  had  always  shrunk  from  them,  and  now  sunk 
under  them. 

These  are  awful  moments,  and  humiliating  discoveries ! 
How  we  upbraid  ourselves  during  their  pressure,  for  the  in- 
decision, the  folly,  the  infatuation,  of  a  process  of  believing, 
which  did  not  go  all  the  length  of  looking  daily  for  mercy, 
"  unto  eternal  life."  How  we  resolve  that,  if  spared,  we 
will  make  sure  work  for  eternity ;  and  enter  upon  a  new 


296  FAITH,    BELIEVING    UNTO 

life  of  faith  on  the  Son  of  God,  which  shall  deserve  the  name 
of  faith.  Accordingly,  we  did,  for  a  time,  after  being  thu9 
startled  and  humbled,  set  ourselves  in  good  earnest,  to 
believe  unto  the  saving  of  our  souls,  with  an  everlasting 
salvation.  We  returned  to  the  point  and  spirit  of  our  first 
apphcations  to  the  Saviour.  We  knelt  at  the  mercy-seat, 
laying  hold  of  the  cross  with  one  hand,  and  of  eternal  life 
with  the  other  hand.  We  thus  kept  in  view  the  final  end 
of  faith,  as  well  as  its  immediate  objects;  and  honestly  told 
ourselves,  that  any  thing  less  than  meeting  the  whole  ques- 
tion of  final  safety,  must  render  the  next  approach  of  death 
as  overwhelming  as  the  former. 

We  remember  all  this  well.  It  is,  therefore,  humiliating 
to  confess,  that,  notwithstanding  this  solemn  lesson,  and 
after  acting  on  it  for  some  time,  we  have  again  and  again 
relapsed  into  our  old  habit  of  resting  in  /ia//"  measures  ;  and 
of  living,  praying,  and  believing  for  the  day,  and  not  for 
eternity.  We  continue,  indeed,  "  looking  for  the  mercy  of 
our  Lord  Jesus  Christ,"  every  day;  but  not,  every  day, 
looking  for  it,  "  unto  eternal  life." 

By  this  time  you  are  willing  to  go  into  the  question,  how 
came  the  primitive  Christians  to  acquire  such  a  realizing 
and  habitual  sense  of  the  glory  and  solemnity  of  eternal 
life  ?  How  did  they  manage  to  keep  on  believing  up  to  the 
"  e«a"  of  faith?  The  real  answer  to  this  question  cannot 
be  short,  and  satisfactory  too.  It  is  necessary,  in  order  to 
understand  their  case,  to  have  the  whole  of  it  before  us, 
both  in  substance  and  detail. 

Observe,  then,  how  their  faith  was  solicited  and  enforced, 
in  the  first  instance.  Now,  it  was  not  claimed,  at  the  out- 
set, by  temporal  nor  by  temporary  considerations.  The  first 
appeals  they  heard,  on  behalf  of  faith  in  Christ,  were  not 
founded  on  the  reasonableness  of  faith  ;  nor  on  its  holy 
influence  ;  nor  on  the  mere  criminality  Of  unbelief;  but  on 
the  eternal  advantages  of  bolicving  in  Christ.  Everlasting 
happiness  was  the  fin^l  thiiifr  pr()i)Osed  to  them  by  the  gos- 
pel,    li  said  nothing  to  them  about  the  beauty  or  the  ne- 


ETERNAL     LIFE.  297 

cessity  of  holiness,  until  it  had  made  to  them  a  full  disclo- 
sure, and  a  free  ofter,  of  that  glorious  heaven,  which 
deserves  all  the  holiness  it  demands  ; — nothing  to  them 
about  the  duty  or  the  privilege  of  prayer,  until  it  had  pre- 
sented to  them  the  prospect  of  that  eternal  communion  with 
God  and  the  Lamb,  of  which  prayer  is  the  pledge  and  the 
prelude  ; — nothing  to  them  about  joining  the  church,  or 
celebrating  her  sacraments,  until  it  had  tried  upon  their 
souls  all  the  attractions  of  the  church  of  the  first-born,  and 
of  the  marriage-supper  of  the  Lamb,  in  heaven.  Thus 
eternal  life  was  the  grand  thing  which  they  began  to  be- 
lieve on  Christ  for.  Their  faith  did  not,  indeed,  stop  there  : 
nor  was  it  allowed  to  overlook  any  of  the  practical  designs 
of  the  gospel.  It  was  not,  however,  made,  in  the  first  in- 
stance, to  travel  through  them,  step  by  step,  until  it  reached 
the  hope  of  glory,  as  the  result  of  obedience ;  but  it  was 
lifted  to  that  immortal  hope  at  once,  and  then  led  into  all 
the  paths  of  virtue  and  holiness.  Thus  an  almost  personi- 
fied eternity,  in  all  its  grandeur,  placed  before  them  the 
high  claims  of  the  Saviour  on  their  confidence  and  subjec- 
tion. Their  faith  was  asked  and  won,  amidst  vivid  visions 
of  the  pealing  harps,  the  sparkhng  crowns,  and  the  eternal 
ma-nsions,  of  the  general  assembly  in  heaven.  Nor  was 
this  all.  That  "opened"  heaven  came  before  them,  con- 
fronted with  an  equally  opened  hell.  They  had,  therefore, 
in  believing,  to  look  all  that  glory,  and  all  that  wrath,  full 
in  the  face  ;  and  to  believe  up  to  the  point  of  dehverance 
from  that  wrath,  and  of  a  title  to  that  glory. 

Now,  need  I  say  that,  in  order  to  the  exercise  of  such 
faith,  they  must  have  looked  closer  and  oftener  at  "  the 
mercy  of  our  Lord  Jesus  Christ,"  than  if  they  had  only  been 
believing  in  order  to  be  fit  for  baptism  and  the  sacrament ; 
or  for  the  purpose  of  becoming  better,  and  being  in  the  right 
way  ?  You  see,  at  a  glance,  that  their  views  of  his  mercy 
must  have  been  as  vast  and  vivid  as  their  views  of  heaven 
and  hell ;  and  their  faith  in  his  mercy  as  strong  as  their 
faith  in  eternal  things.     Slight  notions  of  the  person  or 


298  FAITH,     BELIEVING    UNTO 

work  of  Christ,  and  doubtful  faith  in  Him,  would  not  have 
lifted  them  over  the  fear  of  perishing,  nor  up  to  the  hope  of 
salvation.  And,  as  they  found  enough  in  the  Lamb  slain 
to  meet  all  the  wants  and  perils  of  their  case,  no  wonder  if 
they  continued  looking  for  his  mercy  unto  eternal  life. 
The  needle  of  their  faith  was  so  magnetized  by  eternity  at 
first,  that  it  turned  to  that  pole  for  ever  after. 

Now,  did  our  believing  begin  thus  ?  Had  it  such  a  full 
and  distinct  reference  to  "  eternal  redemption  ?"  Perhaps 
not  exactly.  It  had,  however,  a  pointed  reference  to  escape 
from  the  wrath  to  come,  at  first ;  and,  if  it  has  a  less  point- 
ed one  now,  that  is  one  reason  why  our  comfort  is  less  than 
that  of  the  primitive  believers.  They  did  not  satisfy  them- 
selves with  believing  that  their  escape  was  possible  ;  nor 
with  believing  that  it  was  not  improbable  ;  nor  with  be- 
lieving that  they  were  as  likely  to  escape  as  others.  They 
did  not  hush  up  nor  hurry  over  the  great  question  in  this 
sluggish  and  superficial  way.  They  seem  to  have  both 
avoided  and  disdained  that  half-way  faith,  which  places 
itself  just  so  near  the  Refuge,  that  it  can,  as  it  imagines, 
flee  into  it  on  a  moment's  warning.  Indeed,  they  seem  to 
have  had  no  idea  of  that  paltry  policy  in  religion,  which 
just  abstains  from  going  altogether  out  of  sight  of  the  Cross, 
or  out  of  reach  of  the  Refuge  :  but  which  abstains  equally 
from  coming  under  their  shadow  or  their  authority.  This 
was  not  the  religion  of  the  first  Christians.  Nothing  stifled 
or  stilled  their  cry,  "  What  shall  we  do  to  be  saved,"  but  a 
faith  which  could  say,  "  We  believe  that  through  the  grace 
of  our  Lord  Jesus  Christ,  we  shall  be  saved."  Even  good 
signs  did  not  satisfy  them.  We  never  hear  any  of  them 
banishing  or  balancing  their  sense  of  danger,  by  an  appeal 
to  the  convictions  they  felt  nnder  one  sermon  ;  or  to  the 
tears  they  shed  under  another ;  or  to  the  vows  they  made 
at  the  sncrament ;  or  to  the  prmjcrs  they  poured  out  in  the 
day  of  trouble.  They  did  not,  of  course,  think  lightly  of 
these  things,  nor  exclude  thorn  from  the  catalogue  of  ex- 
perimental exercises  :  but  neither  did  they  rest  in  them  as 


ETERNAL   LIFE.  299 

grounds  of  safety,  nor  allow  them  to  keep  the  soul  from 
making  a  full  and  final  committal  of  itself  into  the  hands  of 
Christ.  Indeed,  they  could  not  compromise  their  safety 
in  this  way  ;  because  they  did  not,  or  durst  not,  shut  their 
eyes  on  either  the  eternal  heaven  which  had  captivated 
them,  nor  on  the  eternal  hell  which  had  alarmed  them. 

Now,  if  we  feel  that  there  has  been,  in  our  own  case,  a 
less  impression  of,  or  a  less  reference  to,  heaven  and  hell ; 
and,  that  in  consequence  of  this  estrangement  of  our  thoughts 
from  eternity,  we  have  rather  gone  on  looking  for  mercy, 
"  unto,"  a  long  life,  or  an  easy  life,  or  even  a  good  life,  than 
"  unto  eternal  life  ;"  it  is  necessary,  and  it  is  high  time,  to 
resume  our  first  views  of  the  great  salvation,  and  even  to 
brighten  them  by  profounder  meditation. 

Another  circumstance  which  gave  point  and  power  to  the 
faith  of  the  first  Christians  was,  that  they  were  the^r^^.  I 
do  not  mean  by  this,  the  sublimity  nor  the  responsibility  of 
the  distinction.  They  could  hardly  be  aware  of  either,  for 
some  time.  What  I  mean  is,  that  they  were  not  infltienced 
in  their  believing,  by  the  memory  of  their  parents  and  other 
departed  friends  ;  and,  thus,  were  in  no  danger  of  mistaking 
an  hereditary  creed,  for  personal  faith  ;  or  veneration  of  a 
parent's  piety,  for  love  to  his  God  and  Saviour.  They  had 
no  family  links  between  their  hearts  and  heaven,  when  they 
began  to  believe  unto  eternal  life.  No  last  injunction  of  a 
dying  father  or  mother  induced  them  to  flee  from  the 
wrath  to  come.  None  of  the  Gentiles,  at  least,  had  upon 
their  soul  a  solemn  charge  from  any  departing  spirit,  to  pre- 
pare to  meet  it  on  the  right  of  the  Judge  ;  but  each  convert 
had  to  act  on  the  force  of  his  own  convictions,  and  of  his 
own  faith  in  the  gospel. 

Now,  this,  although  no  enviable  position,  was  not  unfa- 
vourable to  decision  of  character.  The  very  pain  of  these 
circumstances  promoted  sincerity  and  promptitude.  Every 
Gentile  convert  had  to  act  for  himself,  and  on  his  own  re- 
sources, in  forming  those  views  of  faith  and  practice,  which 
form  the   character  for  heaven.     Whatever,  therefore,  he 


300  FAITH,    BELIEVING    UNTO 

lacked  .of  relative  motive,  he  was  not  diverted  from  personal 
decision,  by  family  hopes  or  habits. 

We  cannot,  of  course,  regret,  but  must  rejoice,  that  heaven 
comes  before  us  not  desolate  of  ancestral  spirits.  It  is  no 
small  part  of  our  happiness  to  believe,  that  some  of  those, 
who  were  nearest  and  dearest  to  ns  on  earth,  are  now  be- 
fore the  throne  ;  and  even  there  continue  to  love  us,  and  to 
long  for  us  to  join  them.  These  are  golden  links  between 
our  hearts  and  heaven !  and  might  be  expected,  as  they  are 
well  calculated,  to  draw  our  thoughts  and  g,ffections  very 
often  and  very  far  heavenward.  And  they  have  this  sweet 
influence,  whenever  we  allow  them  to  exert  it.  It  is,  how- 
ever, necessary  to  take  care  lest  this  ardent  love  to  those 
who  are  "  for  ever  with  the  Lord,"  be  mistaken  for  love  to 
the  Lord  himself.  For,  although  we  cannot  love  them  too 
ardently,  we  are  in  danger  of  loving  him  too  coldly ;  and 
of  looking  more  at  heaven  in  the  softened  form  of  meeting 
them,  than  in  the  solemn  form  of  meeting  God.  It  was  in 
the  latter  form  chiefly,  that  the  first  Christians  looked  at 
eternity ;  and,  therefore,  their  piety  was  an  habitual  prep- 
aration to  meet  God,  And,  surely,  ours  ought  not,  need 
not,  to  be  diff'erent,  seeing  we  expect  to  meet  so  many  en- 
deared spirits  at  the  same  time  with  him  !  For,  so  far  as  this 
fond  hope  softens  the  solemn  interview  which  we  anticipate, 
so  far  it  ought  to  increase  and  quicken  our  anticipations  of  it. 

Another  circumstance  which  gave  great  point  and  con- 
clusiveness to  the  faith  of  the  first  believers,  was,  the  peril 
of  life  at  which  they  became  Christians.  An  open  and 
avowed  "  looking  for  the  mercy  of  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ, 
mito  eternal  life,"  was,  in  fact,  the  risking  of  temporal  life, 
as  well  as  of  property,  and  freedom,  and  reputation.  It 
required,  therefore,  an  habitual  looking  at  the  things  which 
are  unseen  and  eternal,  in  order  to  balance  at  all  the  loss  of 
the  tliin«fs  which  are  seen  and  temporal.  Nothing  less  than 
such  a  familiarity  with  their  "  enduring  substance  in  heaven," 
could  have  reconciled  or  enabled  them  to  peril  life  and  sub- 
stance on  earth  as  they  did. 


ETERNAL    LIFE.  301 

Their  heavenly-mindedness  was  not,  however,  the  virtue 
of  necessity,  on  their  part.  They  did  not  take  up  with, 
heaven,  because  of  the  peculiar  uncertainty  of  Hfe  and 
property  at  the  time  ;  but,  for  the  sake  of  eternal  life,  they 
voluntarily  and  deliberately  hazarded  every  thing.  Their 
privations  were  the  effects,  not  the  cause,  of  their  choice. 
Nor  did  they  repent  of  that  choice,  when  its  effects  proved 
fatal.  In  vain,  therefore,  do  we  attempt  to  excuse,  by  the 
tendency  of  easier  circumstances,  our  inferior  heavenly- 
mindedness.  We  are  not,  indeed,  thrown  so  directly  and 
constantly  on  eternity  for  comfort,  as  they  were.  We  have 
more  "  vineyards  in  the  wilderness"  than  they  had.  The 
lines  are  fallen  to  us  in  pleasant  places,  and  we  have  a 
goodly  heritage,  compared  with  their  lot.  But,  do  we,  dare 
we,  turn  this  into  a  reason,  or  an  excuse,  for  thinking  but 
seldom  and  slightly  of  the  glory  to  be  revealed  ?  A  heart 
thoroughly  and  habitually  "  right  with  God,"  would  find  in 
this  change  for  the  better,  nothing  but  reasons  and  motives 
for  a  higher  degree  of  heavenly-mindedness ;  because  we 
thus  possess  more  time,  and  convenience,  and  composure, 
for  devotional  habits. 

Besides,  there  is  even  in  the  ordinary  uncertainty  of  life, 
what  ought  to  be  quite  enough  to  turn  the  eye  upon  eternity 
every  day.  How  often  we  are  shocked  or  surprised  by 
sudden  deaths,  in  the  circle  of  our  own  acquaintance  ? 
How  often  we  see  that  no  age,  however  promising,  and  no 
office,  however  important,  is  any  absolute  security  against 
sudden  death  ?  And  now  that  Pestilence  is  in  the  country, 
how  loud  is  the  call,  "  Be  ye  also  ready  ?"  That  virulent 
disease  leaves  neither  time  nor  power  for  clearing  up 
doubtful  conversions,  or  for  healing  backslidings.  Its  vic- 
tims must  go  into  eternity  in  the  dark,  if  it  find  them  un- 
prepared or  ill  prepared.  It  gives  no  space  for  repentance, 
and  no  intervals  for  prayer.  As  the  tree  stands  it  must 
fall,  and  as  it  falls  it  must  lie,  beneath  the  stroke  of  this 
axe  !  Those  only  are  prepared  for  this  death,  who  are  be- 
lieving "  unto  eternal  life." 

VOL.  I.— 26 


302  ETERNITY     REALIZED 

No.   VII. 
ETERNITY     REALIZED     IN     THE     SANCTUARY. 

If  Jacob  could  regard  his  anointed  pillar  on  Bethel,  as 
"  none  other  than  the  house  of  God,"  and,  therefore,  as 
"the  gate  of  heaven,"  we  may  well  and  easily  recognise 
in  the  Christian  sanctuary,  the  gate  of  heaven  ;  for  its 
oracles  and  ordinances  reveal  far  more  of  heaven  than  the 
vision  of  the  mystic  ladder  did,  and  are  far  more  calculated 
to  make  us  meet  for  the  inheritance  of  the  saints  in  light. 
We,  indeed,  see  no  angels  ascending  or  descending  in  the 
house  of  God ;  but  we  have,  in  its  lively  oracles  and  ex- 
pressive ordinances,  what  is  more  instructive  than  any 
vision  of  silent  angels  could  be  ;  for  Jacob's  angels  were 
all  silent  on  Bethel.  God,  indeed,  spake  to  him  there  ; 
but,  how  little,  compared  with  our  ample  volume  of  reve- 
lation. 

It  is  quite  needless  to  contrast  farther  our  "gate  of  heav- 
en," with  that  on  Bethel :  it  is,  however,  very  necessary  to 
compare  our  own  views  and  feelings  towards  the  sanctuary, 
with  those  of  Jacob  ;  for,  if  he  loved  and  revered  Bethel, 
as  a  pledge  and  prelude  of  the  heavenly  temple,  it  surely 
becomes  us  to  imitate  him  in  our  Zion.  It  is  more  like 
heaven,  and  more  linked  to  it,  than  any  anointed  pillar  on 
a  bleak  mountain  could  be,  however  consecrated.  When 
the  ministers  of  the  sanctuary  aflirm  this  fact,  and,  on  the 
ground  of  it,  enforce  regular  and  reverential  attendance  on 
public  worship,  thoy  as  much  proclaim  what  their  own 
character  and  preaching  ought  to  be,  as  what  our  character 
and  feelings  ought  to  be.  An  unholy  minister  never  ex- 
poses himself  more  to  contempt,  than  when  ho  stands  for- 
ward to  assert  a  connexion  between  his  sanctuary  and  heav- 
en; and  thus  to  enforce  its  claims  on  our  regard.  We  both 
dispute  and  despise  the  claim,  so  far  as  he  is  concerned. 

It  is  a  very  different  dilemma,  but  still  a  real  dilemma, 


IN    THE    SANCTUARY.  303 

when  a  minister,  although  not  unholy,  has  neither  talents 
nor  learning  to  justify  at  all  the  demands  upon  our  attention 
which  he  puts  forward  in  the  name  of  the  sanctuary  and 
the  Salibath.  Their  claims  and  his  are  certainly  not  iden- 
tical. We  cannot  acquire  knowledge  from  an  ignorant 
man,  nor  wisdom  from  a  weak  man,  however  good  his  char- 
acter or  his  intentions  may  be.  Indeed,  the  weightier  the 
claims  of  the  house  and  day  of  God  are,  the  lighter  are 
those  of  men, 

"  Who  cannot  teach,  and  will  not  learn  ;" 

and  yet,  unfortunately,  such  men  are  most  forward  to  mix 
themselves  up  with  the  divine  authority  of  religious  ordi- 
nances. 

Eminently  holy  ministers,  of  inferior  acquirements,  never 
fall  into  this  mistake,  nor  place  themselves  in  this  awkward 
dilemma.  Their  superior  holiness  renders  it  impossible  for 
them  to  talk  or  think  of  what  is  owing  to  their  office  in  the 
church-  Accordingly,  their  only  wonder  is,  and  it  is  sin- 
cere, that  their  ministry  is  attended  at  all.  Worthy  men  » 
In  the  godly  simplicity  of  their  hearts,  they  forget  that  there 
is  a  charm  in  their  holy  and  heavenly  unction,  which  no 
judicious  Christian  would  exchange  for  mere  eloquence  or 
learning.  Such  shepherds  will  never  be  without  a  flock, 
whilst  there  are  sheep  or  lambs  in  the  fold  of  God,  who 
prefer  refreshment  to  amusement,  and  food  to  excitement. 
The  success  of  men,  who  are  lost  in  their  message,  is 
neither  marvellous  nor  mysterious.  Humanly  speaking, 
it  may  be  "  a  wonder  unto  many  ;"  but,  divinely  speaking, 
it  is  only  what  might  be  expected. 

But,  whatever  be  the  talents,  the  acquirements,  or  the 
piety  of  a  minister,  he  places  himself  in  a  very  delicate 
position,  whenever  he  commends  or  enforces  the  claims  of 
the  house  of  God,  as  "  the  gate  of  heaven."  We  ought, 
then,  to  hear  him  with  great  candour,  and  even  to  sympa- 
thize with  him  ;  for  the  question,  "  Is  my  preaching  in  char- 
acter—is my  spirit  in  harmony,  with  these  high  claims  ?" 


304  ETERNITY    REALIZED 

is  pressing  heavily  on  his  heart.  The  bare  consideration, 
that  neither  his  ministerial  character  nor  spirit  is  in  contrast 
to  the  heavenliness  of  the  sanctuary,  is  not  enough,  when 
this  is  his  theme,  to  maintain  his  nsual  composure !  He 
feels  through  all  his  soul,  that  words  will  not  prove  to  us, 
that  the  house  of  God  is  the  gate  of  heaven.  He  is  pene- 
trated with  the  conviction,  that  assertions,  however  solemn, 
and  arguments,  however  strong,  will  and  must  fail  to  imbue 
us  with  the  spirit  of  Jacob,  unless  a  double  portion  of  that 
heavenly  spirit  rest  upon  himself.  He  even  feels  sure,  that 
the  more  Zion  is  complimented  in  words,  the  less  she  will 
be  venerated,  unless  his  own  unction  illustrate  her  claims. 
Such  a  man,  therefore,  deserves  both  our  candour  and  grati- 
tude, whenever  he  tries  to  dignify  or  endear  the  sanctuary, 
by  proving  that — 

"The  Holy  to  the  Holiest  leads." 

It  is,  then,  desirable  and  necessary,  that  our  ministers  should 
regard  the  house  of  God  as  the  gate  of  heaven  ;  and  both 
preach  and  pray  under  a  realizing  sense  of  this  sublime  fact. 
Without  the  cultivation  of  this  spirit  and  habit  on  their  part, 
there  will  be  a  lack  of  spirituality  on  our  part.  It  should 
not,  however,  depend  chiefly  on  the  minister,  whether  the 
ordinances  and  fellowship  of  Zion  shall,  or  shall  not,  be  to 
us,  the  foretastes  of  heaven.  We  have  free  access  to  all 
the  sources,  both  of  information  and  influence,  which  war- 
rant or  enable  him  to  connect  the  church  on  earth  with  the 
church  in  heaven.  Let  us,  therefore,  familiarize  ourselves, 
devotionally,  with  those  scriptural  views  of  the  sanctuary, 
which  arc  most  heavenly  ;  that  thus  we  may  feel  its  claims 
to  love  and  veneration,  even  when  he  fails  to  plead  them  in 
demonstration  of  the  Spirit  ;  and  that  we  may  enjoy  its 
ordinances  when  he  succeeds  in  throwing  the  light  of 
eternity  upon  them. 

Now,  it  would  be  strange,  indeed,  if  tlie  liouse  of  God 
were  not  represented  in  the  Scriptures,  as  the  gate  of 
heaven.     It  must  be  so — if  the  character  of  God  be  the 


IN    THE     SANCTUARY.  305 

same  in  heaven  as  it  is  on  earth.  It  must  be  so — if  the 
first  principles  and  final  end  of  his  worship  be  the  same  in 
both  worlds.  This  is  self-evident.  God  would  not  teach 
us  on  earth,  what  we  should  have  to  unlearn  in  heaven. 
He  would  not  train  us  here,  on  principles  which  had  no 
place  there.  No  ;  we  are  now  learning  the  lessons,  and 
acquiring  the  character,  which  eternity  will  perfect  and 
perpetuate.  The  paternal  and  covenant  character  of  God 
in  Christ,  has  no  change  to  undergo,  when  we  exchange 
worlds.  It  will  be  more  clearly  seen,  and  more  fully  en- 
joyed, as  to  degrees  of  light  and  joy,  but  not  as  to  kind. 
God,  as  he  is  now  known  in  Zion,  will  be  "  our  God  for 
ever  and  ever." 

Were  there  nothing  to  endear  the  sanctuary  to  us  but  this 
one  fact,  we  might  well  regard  it  as  the  gate  of  heaven. 
No  work  nor  wonder  of  nature  presents  the  divine  charac- 
ter in  that  light,  in  which  it  is  seen  and  enjoyed  in  the  up- 
per sanctuary.  Paternal  views  of  God  may  be  transferred 
from  his  house  to  his  creation ;  but  no  scene  of  creation  is 
a  gate  of  heaven.  The  loveliest  is  too  cold,  and  the  sub- 
limest  too  dark,  to  shadow  forth  "  our  Father,"  as  he  is  "  in 
heaven."  This,  however,  the  oracles  and  ordinances  of 
Zion  do  effectually.  They  present  God  to  us,  in  the  very 
relation  in  which  he  stands,  and  will  sustain  for  ever, 
towards  all  the  redeemed  spirits  before  his  throne. 

How  this  fact  ought  to  dignify  and  endear  Zion  in  our  esti- 
mation !  Its  courts  are  more  than  "  holy  ground ;"  they 
are  heavenly  too.  David  understood  the  matter  thus,  when 
he  said,  "  One  thing  have  I  desired  of  the  Lord,  and  that 
will  I  seek  after,  that  I  may  dwell  in  the  house  of  the  Lord 
all  the  days  of  my  life,  to  behold  the  beauty  of  the  Lord." 
He  knew  that  His  beauty  there,  was  the  same  in  substance 
as  in  the  heaven  of  heavens ;  and,  therefore,  he  gave  a 
decided  preference  to  that  place  where  God  appears  likest 
to  what  He  is  and  ever  will  be,  on  the  throne.  Let  this  be 
present  to  our  minds,  whenever  we  appear  before  God  in 
Zion.     Let  us  say  to  ourselves,  as  we  go  to  his  house — I 

27* 


306  ETERNITY   REALIZED 

am  about  to  contemplate  God,  and  to  commune  with  Him, 
in  the  very  character  which  he  will  sustain  through  eternity. 
There  is  that  in  his  paternal  love  and  glory,  which  will  for 
ever  secure  my  love,  and  delight  my  soul,  when  all  my 
powers  are  perfect  and  immortal.  I  shall  never,  never  tire 
of  viewing  him  as  my  father ;  and  never,  never  fail  to  find 
joy  unspeakable  from  this  near  and  dear  relationship.  It 
will  gratify  and  satisfy  me  to  all  eternity.  Surely,  then,  I 
may  well  love  the  place  where  he  most  displays  his  pater- 
nal character ;  and  well  fill  up  the  time  with  a  theme  that 
will  fill  eternity. 

We  may  not,  indeed,  always  enter  into  the  spirit  of  this 
consideration,  when  we  enter  the  sanctuary  ;  but,  by  at- 
tempting to  do  so  always,  we  shall  learn  a  valuable  lesson 
even  when  we  fail.  Let  us,  therefore,  say  to  ourselves, 
when  we  leave  the  house  of  God  without  delight  in  his 
character — An  eternity  of  this  estrangement  of  heart  from 
God,  would  be  intolerable  !  An  eternity  of  dark  and  harsh 
views  of  God  would  be  horrible  !  Why  should  I  ever 
entertain  such  views?  The  house  of  God  is  the  gate  of 
heaven  ;  and,  therefore,  I  am  warranted  to  cherish  such 
views  of  his  character  now,  as  will,  when  perfect,  cheer 
me  for  ever.  Let  me  not,  then,  indulge  ideas  of  God, 
which  I  would  not  carry  into  heaven.  Let  me  not  think 
of  Him  now,  as  I  shall  never  think  of  Him — 

"  "Whilst  immortality  endures." 

The  connexion  of  the  house  of  God  with  the  Saviour, 
also,  renders  it  emphatically  the  gate  of  heaven.  The  grand 
reason  why  nature  presents  no  gates  of  heaven,  is,  that  it 
gives  no  intimations  of  a  Saviour.  There  is  nothing  in  all 
the  range  of  its  most  radiant  glories  which  suggests  one 
idea  of  heaven  ;  except  so  far  as  revelation  has  employed 
them  as  emblems  of  it.  Apart  from  that,  they  throw  no 
light  upon  the  invisible  world.  But  the  sanctuary  is  so 
founded  upon  Christ,  and  so  full  of  express  references  to 


IN   THE    SANCTUARY.  307 

him,  that  it  is  very  like  all  that  we  know  of  heaven,  both 
as  a  state,  and  as  a  place.  The  determination  of  ministers 
to  know  nothing  amongst  us,  save  Jesus  Christ,  and  him 
crucified,  is  akin  to  the  constancy  with  which  saints  and 
angels  sing,  "  Worthy  is  the  Lamb  that  was  slain."  The 
adoring  humility  and  gratitude  with  which  believers  ascribe 
all  their  salvation  to  Him,  are  not  unlike  the  emotions  which 
lead  all  the  spirits  of  the  just  to  cast  their  crowns  at  his 
feet.  The  church  on  earth,  at  the  sacramental  supper,  is 
not  altogether  unlike  the  church  in  heaven,  at  the  marriage- 
supper  of  the  Lamb.  "  The  new  song"  of  both  churches 
is  the  same.  And  when  the  whole  assembly  mingle  their 
hearts  and  voices  in  the  grand  hallelujah  chorus  of  that 
song,  there  is  nothing  on  earth  so  like  unto  heaven.  There 
are,  indeed,  many  and  sad  dissimilarities  ;  and  it  would  be 
unwise  to  forget  them.  But  still,  after  making  all  the  de- 
ductions which  truth  requires,  there  remains  more  of  the 
aspect  and  spirit  of  heaven  in  Zion,  than  can  be  found  in 
any  other  assembly.  There  is,  alas,  too  little  of  the  image 
of  Christ,  and  less  of  his  spirit,  in  his  churches  ;  but,  no- 
where else  is  there  so  much  of  either.  It  is,  therefore, 
both  unwise  and  improper  to  allow  the  imperfections,  or 
even  the  spots,  of  the  church  on  earth,  to  hide  from  us  her 
relationship  and  resemblance  to  heaven.  He  is  only  "  wise 
in  his  own  conceit,"  who  stands  aloof  from  her  fellowship, 
under  the  pretence  that  no  church  is  pure  enough  for  his 
taste.  Such  wilful  ''  aliens  from  the  commonwealth  of 
Israel,"  are,  in  general,  not  pure  enough  for  the  sacraments 
of  any  church,  which  requires  sterling  character  as  the  con- 
dition of  communion. 

Besides,  there  are  in  every  conscientious  church  a  goodly 
number  who  both  bear  the  image  and  breathe  the  spirit  of 
Christ ;  who  are  walking  humbly  and  circumspectly  in  the 
narrow  way  that  leadeth  to  life  ;  who  are  bearing  their  own 
crosses,  and  each  other's  burdens,  well ;  and  trying  to  live 
"  as  heirs  together  of  the  grace  of  life  ;"  and  these,  we  know, 
shall  inherit  heaven.     We  calculate  on  sitting  down  with 


308  ETERNITY    REALIZED 

them  in  the  kingdom  of  God.  Why  not,  then,  sit  down 
with  them  here,  in  humble  anticipation  of  associating  with 
them  there  ?  In  no  other  way  can  we  cultivate  that  kind 
of  Christian  fellowship  which  prevails  in  heaven,  and 
which  we  expect  to  share  and  reciprocate  through  eternal 
ages.  And,  as  the  Saviour  will  be  the  grand  centre  of 
that  fellowship,  and  of  all  the  other  felicities  of  heaven,  why 
not  use  and  enjoy  the  sacramental  pledges  of  them  now,  as 
preludes  of  eventual  communion  with  Him,  and  with  all 
who  are  His  ?  This  would  render  the  house  of  God,  em- 
phatically, the  gate  of  heaven  to  us  ;  for  nothing  is  so  like  the 
bliss  or  the  business  of  eternity  as  the  joint  celebration  of 
redeeming  love. 

The  HOLINESS,  also,  required  and  promoted  by  the  house 
of  God,  renders  it  both  an  emblem  and  a  pledge  of  Heaven. 
There  is  far  more  similarity  between  the  terms  of  com- 
munion in  the  church  militant,  and  the  terms  of  admittance 
into  the  church  triumphant,  than  is  usually  noticed.  It  is, 
however,  just  as  true  that  the  unclean,  the  intemperate,  and 
the  dishonest,  should  be  kept  out,  and  cast  out,  of  the  church 
on  earth,  as  that  they  shall  not  enter  into  the  church  in 
heaven.  This  general  law  is  the  same  in  both  worlds. 
Nothing  that  defileth  shall  enter  the  gates  of  the  New  Jeru- 
salem ;  and  none  who  are  immoral  ought  to  be  allowed  to 
remain  in  the  fellowship  of  Zion.  "  Purge  out,"  says 
Paul,  "  the  old  leaven."     1  Cor.  v.  7,  13. 

Had  this  apostolic  rule  been  acted  upon,  honestly  and 
uniformly,  there  would  have  been  less  difllculty  in  proving 
that — 


"  The  church  on  earth,  and  all  the  dead, 
But  one  coininunion  make  :" 


for  it  requires  but  little  candour,  :ind  loss  imagination,  to 
regard  a  body  of  holy  persons,  as  akin  to  '•  the  spirits  of  just 
men  made  perfect."  Holiness  and  hravcn  are  ideas  which 
naturally  blend,  and  suggest  each  other.     We  never  see  an 


IN     THE     SANCTUARY.  309 

eminently  holy  man,  without  thinking  of  heaven.  We  feel 
as  sure  that  he  belongs  to  it,  as  we  should  if  we  saw  an 
angel.  How  readily  and  vividly,  therefore,  would  a  holy 
church  bring  before  our  minds  that  glorious  church  which 
is  without  spot  before  the  throne  ?  Well,  there  are 
churches,  which,  to  say  the  least,  are  not  unholy.  Their 
general  character  is  pure  and  peaceable.  Their  moral 
worth  gives  them  moral  weight.  Their  watchfulness  to 
keep  out,  and  to  cast  out,  unworthy  communicants,  entitles 
them  (whatever  name  they  bear)  to  the  respect  and  grati- 
tude of  all  who  believe  that  the  church  should  be  a  nursery 
for  heaven. 

Do  we,  then,  belong  to  a  holy  church  ?  If  so,  how  use- 
ful and  delightful  its  character  may  be  to  us !  Let  us  look 
round  from  Sabbath  to  Sabbath,  and  especially  on  sacra- 
mental Sabbaths,  upon  our  brethren  and  sisters  in  Christ, 
as  our  eternal  companions  in  the  kingdom  of  God.  Let  us 
not  stop  at  the  fact,  that  it  is  creditable  and  pleasing  to  be 
identified  with  them  on  earth.  It  is,  indeed,  so  :  but  this 
is  not  all  the  truth.  That  moral  excellence,  and  evangeli- 
cal spirit,  which  render  their  fellowship  so  gratifying, 
render  their  glory  sure  ;  and,  therefore,  we  ought,  whilst 
worshipping  with  them,  to  anticipate  that  glory,  and  to 
treat  them  as  the  heirs  of  it.  And  they,  also,  will  regard 
us  in  the  same  light,  if  they  see  any  good  reason  for  be- 
lieving that  the  love  of  Christ  constrains  us  to  follow 
holiness. 

It  vv'ill,  also,  add  much  to  our  enjoyment  of  the  sanctuary, 
if  we  pause  for  a  moment,  whenever  our  hearts  are  in  their 
best  frame,  to  say  unto  ourselves,  *'  This,  and  more  than 
this  relish  and  rapture,  will  prevail  for  ever,  when  we  ex- 
change worlds.  There  will  be  no  return  to  folly,  and  no 
relapse  into  formality,  when  we  reach  heaven.  There,  he 
that  is  holy  will  be  holy  still ;  and  the  beauty  of  hjs  holi- 
ness remain  as  unchangeable  as  the  immortality  of  his 
being." 

And  even  whon  the  frame  of  our  minds  is  dull  and  earth- 


310  ETERNITY     REALIZED 

ly,  the  best  thing  we  can  do  to  quicken  our  rehsh  for  holi- 
ness is,  to  anticipate  heaven.  That,  indeed,  is  not  easily 
done,  when  the  heart  is  not  right  with  God.  Then  it 
seems  presumption  to  cherish  the  hope  of  glory.  If,  how- 
ever, we  do  not,  and  dare  not,  abandon  that  hope  altogether, 
even  then  ;  if  we  still  cling  to  it,  although  our  soul  "  cleav- 
eth  to  the  dust,"  nothing  is  so  likely  to  bring  our  spirit  into 
harmony  with  it,  as  the  distinct  realization  of  the  time, 
when  we  shall  "  bear  the  image  of  the  heavenly,"  as  fully 
as  we  now  bear  "the  image  of  the  earthy."  Yes,  the 
time,  yea,  the  eternity,  is  coming,  when  it  will  be  as  im- 
possible for  our  spirits  to  weary  in  well  doing,  or  to  lose 
their  unction,  as  it  is  for  angels  to  dislike  heaven,  or  to 
distrust  God.  Thus,  the  due  consideration  of  "  what  we 
shall  be"  hereafter,  has  a  direct  tendency  to  make  and  keep 
us  what  we  ought  to  be  here. 

The  mutual  love,  also,  which  prevails  in  heaven,  has 
its  best  emblems  and  exemplifications  in  the  house  of  God. 
Domestic  love  embraces  too  narrow  a  circle,  and  social  love 
is  too  much  blended  with  self-love,  to  be  types  of  that  at- 
tachment which,  like  the  principle  of  gravitation  linking 
star  to  star  throughout  the  universe,  however  they  differ  in 
glory,  links  spirit  to  spirit  throughout  heaven,  without  par- 
tiality and  without  hypocrisy.  There  they  love  each  other 
"for  the  truth's  sake  which  dwelleth  in  them,  and  shall  be 
in  thein  ;"  and  because  God  and  the  Lamb  love  them  all 
with  a  perfect  love. 

It  is  only  in  the  church  that  this  principle  is  acted  on,  or 
recognised.  And,  if  it  be  too  litile  acted  on  there — and, 
alas,  it  is  so !  still  it  has  no  power  nor  place  in  any  other 
form  of  society.  Cordial  love  to  God  and  the  Lamb,  is  no 
condition  of  membership,  and  no  current  claim  for  esteem, 
in  any  s<!ciilar  association  of  men.  Neither  ])oliiical  nor 
commercial  bodies,  as  such,  judge  of  men  by  their  conform- 
ity to  tlie  image  of  God,  nor  by  their  love  to  the  Saviour. 
Whilst,  tlierefore,  I  would  neither  hide  nor  palliate  the  sad 
deficiency  of  brotherly  love  which  prevails  in  our  churches, 


IN    THE     SANCTUARY.  311 

I  boldly  maintain  that  nowhere  else  is  there  any  semblance 
of  that  love  which  makes  heaven  so  lovely.  Love  "  for 
the  truth's  sake"  is  disowned  or  overlooked  in  all  temporal 
confederations.  Some  of  these  may  maintain  religious 
tests  ;  but,  in  general,  real  personal  religion  is  no  recom- 
mendation to  office,  and  no  plea  for  influence  in  the  world. 
It  is  impossible,  there,  to  learn  the  spirit,  the  motives,  or 
the  forms  of  that  love,  which  will  blend  and  bind  all  heav- 
en in  eternal  harmony.  Except  by  contrast,  no  one  was 
ever  led  to  think  of  heaven  by  the  aspect  or  the  spirit  of 
any  secular  assembly.  But,  in  a  church,  that  deserves  the 
name,  let  any  number  of  new  and  real  converts  come  for- 
ward, or  any  number  of  old  converts  evince  a  new  measure 
of  piety,  and  both  will  be  welcomed  and  loved  on  the  single 
ground  of  their  love  to  Christ.  An  accession  to  the  church 
in  heaven  could  not  be  more  sure  of  a  cordial  welcome 
from  saints  and  angels,  than  true  penitents  may  be  here  from 
all  whose  love  is  worth  possessing.  On  all  the  hills  of 
Zion  as  on  mount  Sion,  there  is  joy  over  one  sinner  that 
repenteth.  Unless,  therefore,  we  exclude  from  meetness 
for  the  inheritance  of  the  saints  in  light,  the  love  which 
unites  them,  we  must  acknowledge  that  the  house  of  God 
is  the  gate  of  heaven  ;  for,  nowhere  else  is  there  any  pub- 
lic recognition  of  the  grand  principle  which  unites  that 
general  assembly.  "  Receive  one  another,  even  as  Christ 
hath  received  you,"  is  a  lesson  not  to  be  learned  in  the  world. 
Is  this,  then,  a  part  of  the  meetness  for  heaven,  that  we 
are  cultivating  1  0,  are  we  taking  our  chance  of  catching 
the  spirit  of  celestial  love  at  the  gates  of  the  New  Jerusa- 
lem ?  Why  not  take  our  chance  of  becoming  holy  there, 
without  following  holiness  here  ?  We  dare  not  hazard  our 
souls  on  that  experiment.  All  our  ideas  and  hopes  of  heav- 
en constrain  us  to  follow  holiness.  Why  ?  If  because  it 
is  declared  to  be  necessary,  so  also  is  brotherly  love. 
^'Whosoever  hateth  his  brother  is  a  murderer:  and  ye  know 
that  no  murderer  hath  etenal  life  abiding  in  him.  If  a  man 
say,  I  love  God,  and  hateth  his  brother,  he  is  a  liar :  for  he 


312  ETERNITY    REALIZED 

that  loveth  not  his  brother,  whom  he  hath  seen,  how  can 
he  love  God,  whom  he  hath  not  seen  ?"  There  is  nothing 
said  of  holiness,  more  solemn,  or  heart-searching,  or  au- 
thoritative than  this.  And  this  is  the  law  of  the  house  of 
God,  just  because  it  is  the  gate  of  heaven.  Love  is  no 
more  left  to  be  optional,  or  to  be  made  a  matter  of  conve- 
nience, than  holiness  is  so.  The  one  is  as  binding  as  the 
other  ;  and  both  equally  a  part  of  meetness  for  heaven. 

Now,  it  is  by  keeping  the  eternal  love  and  fellowship  of 
the  saints  in  light  habitually  before  our  minds,  that  we  shall 
best  grow  in  this  grace  of  the  Spirit.  Nothing  is  so  ef- 
fectual in  preventing  and  healing  breaches  among  breth- 
ren, as  the  consideration  that  they  will  be  cordial  friends 
in  heaven  to  all  eternity.  A  moment  of  this  thought  makes 
us  look  foolish,  and  feel  guilty,  whenever  we  are  conscious 
of  an  unchristian  temper  towards  a  fellow  heir  of  eternal 
life.  Even  if  he  is  much  in  fault,  we  dare  not  contemplate 
meeting  him  in  glory,  before  we  forgive  him. 


No.  VIII. 

ETERNITY  REALIZED   AT   THE   SACRAMENT. 

Whatever  may  be  the  present  state  of  our  views  or 
feelings  in  regard  to  the  sacramental  supper  of  the  Lamb, 
our  first  approach  to  his  table  was  unfcignedly  and  pecu- 
liarly solemn.  This  was  the  case,  whether  that  approach 
was  made  in  much  hope,  or  in  much  fear;  in  joy,  or  in 
doubt.  If  hope  predominated  in  our  minds,  it  did  so,  as  it 
reigns  in  the  mind  of  a  dying  Christian,  who  is  departing 
"  in  peace  ;" — as  solemnly  as  sweetly.  It  was  as  thought- 
ful and  prayerful,  as  it  was  soothing.  It  was  a  hope 
"  clothed   with  humihty,"    and  quivering  with  holy   awe. 


AT    THE    SACRAMENT.  313 

Even  if  joy  predominated,  it,  too,  was  emphatically  "  a  holy 
joy."  Tears,  rather  than  words,  were  the  chief  expression 
of  it.  It  was  as  retiring  as  it  was  intense.  Solitude,  not 
publicity,  was  its  chosen  element.  We  were  even  jealous 
of  that  joy,  because  we  felt  ourselves  to  be  utterly  un- 
worthy of  it. 

We  remember  all  this  well.  We  can  never  forget  it, 
however  often  or  much  we  have,  since,  failed  to  realize  that 
state  of  mind.  We  partook  of  our  first  sacrament  vvith 
much  of  that  deep  solemnity  which  pervades  the  spirit  of 
a  dying  saint,  when  partaking  of  his  last  sacrament.  And 
his  solemnity  is  "  very  deep  !"  It  both  sanctions  and  sanc- 
tifies his  application  of  the  Saviour's  words  to  his  own 
case  :  "  I  will  drink  no  more  of  the  fruit  of  the  vine,  until 
that  day  that  I  drink  it  new,  in  the  kingdom  of  God."  Ac- 
cordingly, whatever  be  the  literal  meaning  of  these  words, 
or  the  prophetical  meaning  of  the  apocalyptic  "  marriage- 
supper  of  the  Lamb,"  we  admire  and  approve  his  touching 
transition  of  thought,  from  the  last  sacramental-supper  on 
earth,  to  his  first  celebration  of  the  marriage-supper  in 
heaven ;  it  is,  in  his  circumstances  and  spirit,  so  natural, 
appropriate,  and  beautiful !  Indeed,  this  is  just  the  way  in 
which  we  wish  to  be  exercised,  when  our  last  sacrament 
comes.  We  should  so  like  ! — to  be  able  to  enjoy  it  as  the 
pledge  and  prelude  of  the  heavenly  feast ;  so  like  ! — to  be 
able  to  say  to  our  friends,  "  I  am  going  to  drink  of  the  fruit 
of  the  vine,  new,  in  the  kingdom  of  God."  For,  we  feel 
that,  whatever  material  imagery  runs  through  such  figura- 
tive language,  we  should  not  be  misunderstood  at  that  mo- 
ment ;  and  we  cannot  but  think,  that  the  calm  and  solemn 
utterance  of  such  a  good  hope,  when  we  are  on  the  utter- 
most verge  of  eternity,  would  tend  much  to  endear  the  sac- 
rament to  those  members  of  our  family  who  "keep  the 
feast ;"  and  to  enforce  its  holy  and  sweet  claims  on  those 
of  them  who  neglect  it. 

Well ;  our  last  sacrament  will  come  :  it  may  come  soon ! 
And,  should  we  know  it  to  be  our  last,  we  shall  feel  it  to 

VOL.  L— 27 


314  ETERNITY    REALIZED 

be  very  solemn.  We  shall  feel,  as  if  light  from  eternity 
were  the  covering  of  the  table  ;  as  if  a  hand  from  eternity 
set  out  and  served  the  sacred  emblems  ;  as  if  a  voice  from 
eternity  ultered  the  welcome,  "  Eat,  O  friends :  drink,  O 
beloved ;"  as  if  echoes  from  eternity  repeated  the  closing 
hymn, 

"  'Tis  done  ;  the  great  transaction's  done  !" 

Will  it  be  thus  1  Ought  it  to  be  thus,  at  our  last  sacra- 
ment ?  If  so,  there  may  be  something,  there  ought  to  be 
much,  of  this  realizing  sense  of  eternity,  at  every  sacra- 
ment.    Any  one,  even  the  next,  may  be  our  last. 

But,  however  many  "  solemn  feasts"  may  be  between  us 
and  the  "  marriage-supper  of  the  Lamb,"  in  heaven,  each  of 
them  has  the  same  connexion  with  heaven  as  the  last  will 
have.  And,  as  the  last  may,  from  our  extreme  weakness, 
or  extreme  pain,  be  any  thing  but  a  "time  of  refreshing," 
it  becomes,  yea,  it  behooves  us,  to  try  at  the  next,  and  at 
every  subsequent  sacrament,  how  much  we  can  connect 
it  with  heaven  and  eternity.  The  mind  cannot,  indeed, 
throw  itself,  even  by  an  efibrt,  so  far  "  within  the  veil,"  as 
the  immediate  prospect  and  pressure  of  death  will  throw  it. 
We  cannot  force  such  glimpses  of  eternity,  as  the  approach  of 
death  forces  upon  us.  We  cannot  command  that  entire  and 
intense  concentration  of  spirit  in  the  house  of  God,  which 
is  so  natural,  though  inevitable,  in  the  house  of  mourning, 
at  the  moment  the  mourning  begins.  There,  and  then, 
without  efibrt,  and  even  without  intention,  we  find  ourselves 
absorbed  with  eternal  things.  The  departure  of  one  spirit 
into  the  invisible  world,  displaces,  for  a  lime,  this  world,  in 
all  the  spirits  present.  The  unclothed  soul  cannot  rise 
more  rapidly  to  the  throne  of  God,  even  if  borne  on  angels' 
wings,  than  the  thoughts  and  feelings  of  survivors  rush  into 
the  realization  of  meeting  God.  Their  spirits  are  "  naked 
and  open,"  too,  before  God,  although  in  another  sense  :  for, 
at  this  solemn  moment  they  heed  nothing,  and  hear  nothing 
of  all  that  is  "  under  the  sun," 


AT     THE     SACRAMENT.  315 

On  such  occasions,  the  soul  asserts  its  own  immortality, 
and  springs  at  once  into  its  own  element,  in  spite  of  all  the 
temporal  considerations  which  may  be  around  it.  Neither 
grief  nor  gain  can  materialize  it,  for  a  time.  Its  freedom 
and  force  may  not  last  long ;  but  there  is  an  immortal  ener- 
gy about  them,  for  a  little,  that  makes  the  body  feel  that 
its  limits  are  too  narrow,  and  its  breathing  too  slow,  for  the 
full  action  of  a  fully  conscious  spirit. 

When  we  come  from  such  a  scene  to  the  first  sacrament 
after  it,  this  absorbing  consciousness  of  our  immortality, 
although  softened  and  tranquillized  by  the  interval,  is  yet 
so  vital  and  vivid,  that  it  gives  to  that  sacrament  much  of 
the  aspect  of  a  last  one.  Deep  thoughts  of  our  own  death, 
mingle  with  our  sweetest  recollections  of  the  Saviour's 
death.  We  communicate  for  eternity.  There  is  an  air 
of  eternity  about  the  sanctuary,  and  about  ourselves  too. 
Our  sympathizing  friends  feel  the  "  unction^^  as  well  as  the 
weight,  that  is  on  our  spirit.  For  it  is  not  their  sense  of 
our  less  alone,  that  so  readily  and  fully  harmonizes  their 
looks  and  tones  with  our  own,  when  they  meet  us  for  the 
first  time,  after  we  come  from  the  house  of  mourning  to  the 
house  of  God.  That  holy  and  solemn  awe  which  breathes 
in  all  their  manner  towards  us,  is  chiefly  derived  from  us. 
They  feel  that  we  have  been  so  near  the  eternal  world,  that 
any  thing  not  solemn,  would  be  as  unkind  to  our  seriousness 
as  to  our  sorrow.  They  know  that  we  v/ent  so  far  down 
into  "  the  swellings  of  Jordan,"  with  the  spirit  which  so 
recently  passed  through  them,  that  they  look  as  if  they 
saw  drops  of  the  cold  and  dark  waters  still  hanging  upon 
us.  And  we,  too,  feel,  however  soothed  or  reconciled, 
that  it  would  be  a  kind  of  sacrilege  even  to  smile,  for  a 
time. 

These  familiar  facts  prove,  not  that  it  is  possible,  or  even 
desirable,  to  communicate  in  this  spirit  always  ;  but  that  it 
is  possible,  and  therefore  desirable,  to  cultivate  so  much  of 
a  realizing  sense  of  eternity,  that  each  sacrament  may  have 
an  express  reference  to  it,     And  this,  each  may  have,  as 


316  ETERNITY    REALIZED 

well  the  last,  without  at  all  overcasting  or  overstraining  the 
mind.     Our  first  did  neither  ;  and  yet  it  was  very  solemn. 

The  form  of  these  remarks  is  very  defective,  or  the  design 
of  them  is  sadly  misunderstood,  if  they  seem  to  inculcate 
the  necessity  or  the  desirableness  of  an  hahiUial  awe  on  the 
spirit,  equal  to  that  we  have  just  contemplated.  The  spirit 
could  not  sustain  such  a  load  long.  It  would  "  fail"  under 
the  strain  and  pressure  of  habitual  concentration.  Indeed, 
any  concentration  of  its  thoughts  and  feelings,  which  would 
unfit  us  for  the  ordinary  duties  of  life  and  godliness,  is  to 
be  deprecated.  We  were  not  made,  nor  yet  redeemed,  for 
thinking  only,  nor  for  feeling  only.  Thinking  deeply,  for 
the  sake  of  thought ;  or  feeling  deeply,  for  the  sake  of 
emotion,  is  oftener  a  "  lust  of  the  mind,"  than  a  grace  of  the 
Holy  Spirit.  And,  in  the  case  of  that,  almost,  convulsive 
excitement,  which  is  produced  by  the  shock,  or  the  fear, 
of  death,  there  is  little  or  no  religion  in  it.  It  takes  place, 
in  almost  all  its  forms  and  force,  where  there  is  no  religion 
at  all.  Even  some  of  our  domestic  animals,  are  over- 
whelmed by  the  loss  of  their  young. 

Nothing,  therefore,  can  be  farther  from  my  design,  than 
to  represent  "  the  power  of  godliness,"  as  an  overpowering 
emotion,  or  even  as  powerful  excitement.  Indeed,  one  grand 
feature  of  it  is — power  over  all  excess  both  of  thought  and 
feeling.  The  foregoing  references  to  our  final  sacrament, 
and  to  the  first  one  after  bereavement,  are  intended,  there- 
fore, not  to  bring  up,  at  every  sacrament,  all  the  feelings 
peculiar  to  these  extraordinary  occasions  ;  but  to  bring  out 
of  that  chaos  of  feeling,  the  light  of  eternity  which  pervades 
it ;  and  to  imbody  the  light  in  an  orb,  which  shall  shine  as 
calmly,  and  constantly,  and  brightly,  on  the  sacramental 
table,  as  the  lamps  of  the  tem])le  shone  on  the  altars  of 
sacrifice  and  incense.  For  it  is  possible,  and  desirable, 
and  safe,  to  have  such  an  habitual  sense  of  eternity,  as  shall 
render  every  sacrament  a  foretaste  of  the  marriage-sufjper 
of  the  Lamb.  Each  is  both  intended  and  adapted  to  be  so, 
by  God  ;  and,  therefore,  should  be  received  as  such  by  us. 


AT    THE    SACRAMENT.  317 

In  like  manner,  nothing  is  farther  from  my  intention  than 
to  give  a  mystical,  or  superstitious,  or  undue  importance  to 
the  act  of  communicating,  or  to  the  sacrament  itself.  Any 
thought,  however  profound,  and  any  feeling,  however  spirit- 
ual, which  terminates  on  the  symbols  or  the  ceremony,  is 
far  from  blameless.  The  sacrament,  and  the  sacramental 
act,  are  nothing,  but  as  they  bring  the  soul  near  to  the  Sav- 
iour, and  bind  it  to  holiness.  Like  the  Bethel  ladder,  they 
are  beautiful  in  their  simplicity  of  form,  and  sublime  in  their 
suitableness  of  place  ;  but  it  is  "  the  Lord  standing  above'''' 
them,  that  is  their  real  glory ;  as  their  tendency  to  lead  to 
Him,  is  their  real  use.  This  must  never  be  forgotten.  We 
have  done  nothing  in  religion,  and  nothing  that  is  truly 
spiritual,  when  we  have  broken  bread,  and  drank  wine,  in 
the  sanctuary  ;  however  deep  may  have  been  the  silence, 
and  however  decorous  the  solemnity,  with  which  this  has 
been  done  ;  unless  that  deep  silence  was  the  expression  of 
deep  humility,  and  that  solemnity  the  eiffect  of  communing 
with  God  and  the  Lamb. 

We  should  never  hesitate  to  acknowledge  nor  to  proclaim 
this,  whatever  use  some  may  make  of  the  concession.  It 
may  be  turned  against  the  necessity  of  the  sacrament. 
Those  who  deny  the  permanency  of  its  obligation,  as  a 
Christian  ordinance,  may  argue,  that  they  can  commune 
with  God  and  the  Saviour,  as  well  without  it.  This  is, 
however,  but  mere  assertion,  founded  on  gratuitous  assump- 
tion ;  for,  as  they  have  never  tried  the  experiment  of  com- 
muning with  God  with  it,  they  are  not  qualified  to  judge. 
They  are,  of  course,  both  competent  and  good  judges  of 
their  own  communion  with  God  without  it ;  but,  certainly, 
not  of  ours  with  it.  They  are  as  ignorant  of  how  far  our 
enjoyment  exceeds  their  own,  as  we  are  of  how  far  their 
enjoyment  falls  short  of  ours.  Perhaps,  a  little  more  igno- 
rant ;  for  we  have  some  experience  both  of  the  kind  and 
degree  of  fellowship  with  God,  which  is  enjoyed  without 
the  sacrament :  whereas  they  have  none  of  the  kind  or  the 
degree  which  is  peculiar  with  it. 
27* 


318  ETERNITY    REALIZED 

Having  thus  guarded  against  misunderstandings,  let  lis 
look  fairly  and  fully  in  the  face  of  the  question.  How, 
and  how  much,  may  the  light  of  eternity  be  brought  and 
kept  upon  the  holy  sacrament  ?  We  have  seen  that  death, 
and  the  fear  of  death,  can  actually  enshrine  it  with  much  of 
the  glory,  and  with  more  of  the  solemnities,  of  eternity. 
And  we  remember,  that,  when  we  have  come  from  the  tomb 
to  the  table,  we  have  communicated  in  "  a  right  spirit." 
And,  as  we  felt  then,  and  feel  still,  that  we  were  not  too 
serious,  nor  too  prayerful,  even  then;  we  are  bound  by  con- 
sistency, to  meet  the  question — How  far  can  we  communi- 
cate habitually  for  eternity  ? 

Now,  do  not  imagine  nor  suspect,  that  this  question  is 
intended  or  calculated,  to  bring  in  any  7ieiD  principle,  or  7iew 
feeling,  into  your  sacramental  devotion.  Its  real  and  sole 
design  is,  to  purify  that  devotion,  by  making  the  usual  train 
of  thoughts  and  feelings  flow  more  freely  on  the  channels 
of  eternity,  and  set  in  more  directly  to  the  shores  of  innnor- 
tality.  And  as,  at  each  successive  sacrament,  we  ourselves 
are  nearer  and  nearer  to  the  invisible  world,  it  is,  surely, 
neither  unnatural  nor  unreasonable,  that  our  reflections  and 
emotions  should  advance  in  their  intimacy  with  it.  Our 
bodies  are  for  ever  growing  liker  and  liker  to  the  mortality 
that  awaits  them :  and  our  spirits  ought  to  assimilate  more 
and  more  to  the  immortality  that  awaits  them. 

Now,  it  is  not  diflicult  to  realize  the  manner  in  which  we 
should  celebrate  the  love  of  Christ  in  heaven.  The  moment 
we  think  of  "sitting  down"  at  the  feast  there,  in  the  imme- 
diate and  unveiled  presence  of  the  Master  of  the  feast;  and 
next  to  the  spirits  we  love  ;  and  near  to  the  whole  "  general 
assembly"  of  saints  and  angels — we  feel  at  once  that  we 
should  take  our  place  with  great  solemnity,  and  occupy  it 
with  holy  awe,  and  employ  it  for  holy  purposes.  Not  a 
look  nor  motion  would  be  out  of  character  with  the  scene  or 
the  service.  We  should  be  afraid  to  glance  even  at  the 
whole  landscape  of  Paradise,  lest  it  should  divert  us,  for  a 
moment,  from  gazing  upon  the  Lamb  in  the  midst  of  the 


AT    THE    SACRAMENT.  319 

throne,  or  from  swelling  the  chorus  of  the  new  song.  x\ll 
levity,  and  listlessness,  and  vacancy,  and  the  very  appear- 
ance of  them  too,  would  be  as  much  avoided  as  sleep  or 
irreverence.  And,  is  not  more  of  this  reverential  manner 
as  possible,  as  it  is  desirable,  at  the  sacramental  feast  on 
earth  ?  Would  it  not  promote  all  the  spiritual  purposes  of 
communicating,  and  improve  its  spirit  too,  to  place  ourselves, 
in  thought,  at  the  table  above,  until  we  felt  that  the  table 
below  was  on  "  holy  ground,"  and  worthy  of  the  most  solemn 
deportment  ?  This  would  prevent  all  postures,  and  motions, 
and  looks,  which  tend  to  deaden  our  own  minds,  or  to  dis- 
turb others. 

In  like  manner,  it  is  not  very  difficult  to  realize  the  spirit 
in  which  we  should  "keep  the  feast"  in  heaven.  We  do, 
occasionally,  catch  a  glimpse  of  the  warm  emotions  which 
the  first  welcome  into  heaven,  the  first  sight  of  heaven,  the 
first  access  to  the  throne  of  heaven,  will  awaken  !  We  have 
some  conception  of  the  mighty  burst  of  mingled  wonder,  gra- 
titude, and  humility,  which  will  be  called  forth,  by  finding  our- 
selves there  !  Even  our  resolution  is  already  taken,  that  no 
spirit  who  has  preceded  us  at  the  throne,  and  none  who  follow 
us,  shall  be  more  humble  or  grateful.  We  are  quite  sure  that 
we  shall  prostrate  ourselves  and  our  crowns,  as  low  as  the 
lowHest ;  and  employ  our  harps  as  cordially  and  constantly, 
as  any  spirit  in  the  general  assembly  of  perfect  spirits. 

These  intentions  and  anticipations  are  occasionally  pres- 
ent to  our  minds,  during  our  solitary  walks,  and  when  we 
are  musing  or  praying  in  our  closets.  Even  when  sur- 
rounded by  our  families  at  home,  fond  hope  will,  now  and 
then,  dart  off*  to  heaven,  with  them  in  her  arms,  and  go 
through  all  the  glorious  act  of  presenting  them  safe  and 
spotless, before  the  throne,  with  exceeding  joy ! 

Thus  we  can,  we  do,  realize  "  the  glorious  things,"  at 
times,  and  in  places,  where  there  is  not  so  much  to  suggest 
the  idea  of  them,  or  to  assist  us  in  realizing  them,  as  there  is 
in  the  sanctuary  and  at  the  sacrament.  Why  not,  then, 
b'^fore  taking  our  place  at  the  table  of  the  Lord,  place  our- 


320  ETERNITY   REALIZED 

selves  in  thought  at  the  throne  of  the  Lord,  until  we  see 
and  feel  the  kind  of  penitence,  and  the  kind  of  humility,  and 
the  kind  of  gratitude,  and  the  kind  of  love,  which  becomes 
those  who  take  "  the  cup  of  blessing"  on  earth,  as  the  pledge 
of  "  the  cup  of  salvation"  in  heaven  ?  No  process  nor  di- 
rection of  thought  would  so  readily  improve  "  a  right  spirit," 
or  correct  a  wrong  spirit.  Indeed,  it  is  only  by  some  pro- 
cess akin  to  this,  that  we  can  succeed  in  securing  a  sacra- 
mental spirit :  for  it  will  not  be  forced.  All  attempts  to 
throw  out  vain  thoughts,  or  to  throw  off  bad  feelings,  by 
dint  of  mere  effort,  almost  defeat  themselves.  These  things 
can  only  be  displaced  by  heavenly  things.  Whilst  Abraham 
only  "  drove  away  the  fowls"  that  alighted  on  his  sacrifice, 
"  a  horror  of  great  daikness"  was  upon  him  ;  but,  when  he 
saw  the  fire  of  heaven,  like  "  a  burning  lamp,"  upon  the 
altar,  he  was  able  to  renew  his  covenant  with  God.  So  it 
is  with  us.  Whilst  we  are  merely  driving  away  *'  the  un- 
clean birds,"  which  haunt  the  cage  of  the  heart,  there  is 
only  hurry,  or  confusion,  or  pain  of  heart.  We  are  almost 
glad  to  avoid  thinking  altogether,  that  we  may  not  run  the 
risk  of  falling  into  trains  of  vain  thoughts.  We  sometimes 
suppress  our  very  breathing,  that  we  may  suppress  the 
wanderings  of  our  minds  ;  and  we  even  try  to  create  an 
utter  vacuum  in  our  spirit,  in  the  hope  that  the  Spirit  of 
God  will  fill  it  with  holy  ideas  and  emotions. 

Now,  although  these  struggles  between  the  flesh  and  the 
spirit,  at  the  sacrament,  tell  a  sad  tale,  and  betray  humilia- 
ting secrets,  concerning  both  the  neglect  of  due  preparation, 
and  the  want  of  habitual  watchfulness  ;  they  show,  also, 
that  we  have  much  to  learn  on  the  subject  of  that  "  all 
diligence,"  by  which  the  heart  may  be  kept  right  with  God. 
One  part  of  that  diligence  is,  the  habit  of  looking  at  "  the 
things  which  are  eternal."  They  must  be  brought  into  our 
minds,  if  "  the  things  which  are  temporal"  are  to  be  driven 
out  of  our  minds,  whilst  we  commemorate  the  death  of 
Christ.  And,  how  much  easier  and  pletisanter  it  is,  instead 
of  a  feverish  or  confused  cITort  to  be  solemn  and  devout, 


AT    THE    SACRAMENT.  321 

just  because  we  ought  to  be  so,  to  have  recourse,  at  once, 
to  the  contemplation  of  an  eternity  that  can  make  us  so ! 
Eternal  redemption — eternal  love — eternal  life — are  objects 
which  cannot  fail  to  dislodge  vain  thoughts,  nor  to  quicken 
dull  feelings,  if  any  due  measure  of  attention  and  prayer  be 
given  to  them. 

In  like  manner,  it  is  not  difficult  to  realize  the  purpose 
for  which  we  should  keep  the  feast  in  heaven.  For,  were 
it  possible  to  pass  within  the  veil  of  that  temple  "  once 
every  year,"  or  even  once  in  the  course  of  our  life,  and  to 
remain  as  long  as  the  high-priest  did  in  the  holy  of  holies ; 
and  then  to  return  to  the  earth,  not  at  all  unfitted  for  the 
ordinary  duties  of  life,  nor  at  all  insensible  to  the  real  worth 
and  claims  of  human  affairs  ;  we  see,  at  a  glance,  that  we 
should  make  all  the  enjoyment  of  this  visit  to  the  "  third 
heavens,"  bear  upon  practical  holiness  for  ever  after.  We 
feel,  that,  if  it  were  put  to  us,  whilst  within  the  veil,  what 
we  should  choose  to  bring  down  from  heaven,  as  most  useful 
on  earth,  and  most  conducive  to  promote  our  final  meetness 
for  "  eternal  inheritance,"  we  should  fix  upon  the  grace 
which  would  enable  us  "to  pass  unspotted  through  the 
world."  This,  after  having  seen  God's  "  holy  hill,"  we 
should  prefer  to  a  crown  of  glory,  or  a  harp  of  gold,  when 
we  had  to  return  to  the  work  and  warfare  of  faith,  in  this 
world.  Indeed,  no  fruit,  "  of  the  tree  of  life,  which  is  in 
the  midst  of  the  paradise  of  God,"  would  be  preferred  to 
that,  which  would  fortify  us  to  do  and  endure  the  will  of 
God  well.  Or,  if  we  did  feel  any  longing  to  bring  down 
something,  which  should  attract  public  notice  by  its  splen- 
dour, or  feed  self-complacency  by  its  singularity,  we  should 
blush  for  ourselves,  and  flee  from  the  vain  desire,  "  as  from 
a  serpent." 

Now,  even  by  this  brief  look  at  "  eternal  things,"  we  have 
caught  a  glimpse  of  the  practical  purpose  of  sacramental 
communion,  which  is  just  as  sober,  as  the  point  from  which 
it  is  gained  is  fanciful.  That  which  we  would  thus  bring  from 
the  table  in  heaven,  we  ought  to  seek,  chiefly,  at  the  table 


322  ETERNITY    REALIZED 

on  earth ; — firmness  to  resist  temptation,  and  fortitude  to 
bear  our  trials. 

At  the  hazard  of  being  charged  with  repetition,  but  with 
the  hope  that  it  will  not  be  "vain  repetition,"  I  renew  my 
appeals  on  the  subject  of  "  brotherly  love."  The  want  or 
the  weakn<iss  of  this  grace,  is  one  great  cause  of  the  want 
of  sensible  enjoyment  at  the  sacrament.  Towards  some, 
whom  God  loves,  we  have  no  love  that  is  worth  mentioning; 
and,  towards  others,  we  have  hardly  good-will.  We  have 
been  offended,  perhaps  injured,  by  a  few  ;  and  although  we 
forgive,  we  do  not  forget ;  but  take  care  that  they  shall 
know,  if  not  feel  too,  that  we  remember  them.  Now,  we 
could  not  remember  them  in  this  way,  were  their  souls  and 
our  souls  to  meet  at  the  marriage-supper  of  the  Lamb,  in 
heaven.  There,  we  should  feel  as  much  ashamed  of  our 
former  high  spirit,  as  they  would  of  their  former  mean  spirit. 
Neither  party  could  bear  an  apology  nor  a  confession  from 
the  other,  before  the  throne.  The  bare  idea  of  recrimina- 
tion, or  even  of  mutual  explanations,  there,  is  intolerable ! 
We  feel,  instinctively,  that  all  unpleasant  recollections  would 
be  for  ever  lost,  in  the  rapture  of  meeting  to  part  no  more. 

Now,  although  it  is  not  necessary  to  bring  all  this  heaven- 
ly temper  to  bear  upon  earthly  fellowship,  it  is  necessary 
that  personal  offences,  which  do  not  unchristianize  the 
offender,  should  not  subject  him  to  unchristian  treatment. 
He  ought  not  to  be  treated  as  innocent,  if  he  has  done  wrong; 
but,  if  the  wrong  do  not  disprove  all  his  pretensons  to  piety, 
he  must  not  be  treated  as  an  "  alien."  Consider  I  he  may 
for  ever  sit  next  to  you  in  heaven. 


A.T   HOMF  323 


No.  IX. 

ETERNITY    REALIZED    AT    HOME. 

Both  the  manner  and  degree  in  which  the  habits  and 
happiness  of  domestic  hfe  may  be  improved  by  the  mutual 
hope  of  eternal  hfe,  deserve  the  serious  attention  of  ail 
husbands  and  wives  who  are  "heirs  together  of  the  grace 
of  life."  No  fastidious  delicacy,  nor  dread  of  singularity, 
should  be  allowed  to  prevent  them  from  thinking  or  speak- 
ing of  their  eternal  prospects,  exactly  as  God  has  spoken. 
No  length  of  time,  during  which  we  have  been  siknt  on 
this  subject,  should  deter  us  from  familiarizing  ourselves 
with  it.  "  The  mighty  God,  the  Lord,  hath  spoken,"  freely 
and  frequently,  upon  it ;  and,  as  he  never  speaks  without 
occasion,  nor  without  design,  on  any  subject,  we  may  be 
sure  that  his  reasons  are  weighty  when  he  speaks  of  mar- 
riage. 

Now,  God  has  expressly  said,  that  "  marriage  is  honour- 
able ;  and,  accordingly,  he  himself  signally  honours  it,  by 
making  it  the  emblem  of  his  own  love  to  believers,  and  of 
their  union  to  Him.  "  I  am  married  unto  thee,"  was  the 
frequent  and  emphatic  language  of  God  to  his  ancient  church. 
Nor  is  this  emblem  less  employed  in  the  case  of  the  Chris- 
tian church.  Her  union  to  Christ  is  represented  as  conju- 
gal. Even  in  heaven,  her  name  is  "  the  Bride,  the  Lamb's 
wife."  Thus  signally  does  God  honour  the  relationship, 
which  he  calls  "  honourable." 

It  may  be  criticism  to  say,  "  that  it  is  the  poverty  of  human 
language  which  gives  rise  to  the  use  of  such  emblems."  It 
is,  however,  sense,  as  well  as  piety,  to  say,  that  the  riches 
of  divine  grace  require  the  use  of  them.  It  may  be  philo- 
sophical to  regard  them  as  accommodations  to  the  weak- 
ness of  our  minds.  It  is,  however,  wisdom  to  regard  them 
as  accommodated  to  the  strength  of  redeeming  love  in  the 
eternal  mind.     Such  metaphors  have,  indeed,  reasons  in 


324  ETERNITY    REALIZED 

both  our  mental  and  moral  weakness  ;  but  their  chief  rea- 
sons are  in  the  manifold  wisdom  and  grace  of  God.  And 
one  of  them  is — to  exalt  and  endear  the  marriage  union  it- 
self, by  throwing  around  it  the  charms  of  a  better  paradise 
than  that  in  which  it  originated.  All  the  divine  arrange- 
ments and  declarations  on  the  subject  of  marriage,  have  an 
express  and  splendid  reference  to  eternity.  The  conjugal 
union  is  made  the  emblem  of  all  the  grace  which  gives  a 
title  to  eternal  life,  just  that  husbands  and  wives  may  live 
and  love  now,  "  as  being  heirs  together  of  the  grace  of  life." 
Their  mutual  hope  of  dwelling  together  in  heaven,  is  made 
the  grand  motive  and  rule  of  their  dwelUng  together  in 
harmony  on  earth.  The  strong  and  lovely  motive  is  in  no- 
wise weakened  or  dimmed  by  the  fact,  that  "  in  heaven  tbey 
neither  marry  nor  are  given  in  marriage."  The  same  high 
authority  which  reveals  this  fact,  declares  that  "  they  are 
equal  unto  the  angels  ;"  a  consideration  quite  sufficient  to 
inspire  the  most  exalted  expectations  of  mutual  recognition 
and  enjoyment.  Angels  are  not  unacquainted  with,  nor  in- 
different to,  each  other.  Both  their  love  and  fellowship  are 
perfect.  It  is  impossible  to  form  a  higher  or  a  holier  idea 
of  mutual  happiness,  than  their  union  and  communion  before 
the  throne  ;  and,  therefore,  to  be  "  equal  unto  the  angels  " 
in  heaven,  is  the  very  perfection  of  social  felicity  and  per- 
sonal glory. 

It  is,  then,  the  revealed  fact,  that  pious  husbands  and 
wives  shall  be  like  the  angels  of  God  in  heaven.  This  is 
our  joint  heritage  there,  who  are  joint  heirs  of  salvation  here. 
"  Equal  unto  the  angels  !" — Surely,  this  prospect  deserves 
to  be  greeted  with  something  more  grave  than  a  smile.  It 
is  not  visionary  nor  fanciful.  It  is  a  leading  and  everlast- 
ing feature  of  the  heavenly  constitution.  It  is  an  actual 
and  promiiie.nt  part  of  that  *'  life  and  immortality,  which 
Jesus  Christ  brought  to  light,  tlirough  the  gospel  ;"  and, 
therefore,  any  appearance  of  levity  or  indilference  towards 
it,  is  incon:sistent  with  our  habitual  veneration  for  our  Lord 
and  Saviour,  as  "  the  faithful  and  true  witness."     There  is, 


AT    HOME.  325 

I  am  aware,  no  disrespect,  towards  Him  or  His  word,  in- 
tended, by  the  smile  which  usually  awaits  this  subject.  A 
tear  would,  however,  be  a  more  appropriate  tribute  to  the 
moral  aspect  of  the  subject ;  for,  how  few  partners  act  up 
to  the  prospect  of  being  eternally  "  equal  unto  the  angels  ?" 
Even  the  most  amiable  and  exemplary  are  not,  always,  to 
each  other,  exactly  "  that  manner  of  persons  "  which  they 
ought  to  be,  and  might  be,  who  "  look  for  such  things  "  as 
angelic  union  and  communion  in  heaven.  And,  if  those 
who  live  and  love  most  as  heirs  together  of  the  grace  of 
life,  feel  reproved  by  this  prospect,  what  a  reproof  it  ad- 
ministers to  those  who  neither  live  nor  love  so  well,  as  even 
some  do  who  make  no  pretensions  to  religion?  Their 
mutual  hope  of  eternal  harmony  cannot  be  very  bright,  who 
live  in  discord.  The  idea  of  being  for  ever,  or  even  ever, 
like  the  angels  of  God  in  heaven,  cannot  occur  often  to  the 
contentious,  or  the  capricious.  It  does  not  occur  so  often 
to  the  considerate  and  affectionate,  as  it  ought  to  do. 

This  is  held  to  be  a  very  delicate  subject.  Why  it  should 
be  reckoned  so,  is  not  very  evident.  Domestic  habits  and 
tempers  are  treated  with  equal  freedom  and  frequency  by 
the  Scriptures ;  and  it  is  matter  of  universal  experience, 
although  not  of  general  acknowledgment,  that  domestic 
happiness  depends  more  upon  temper  than  upon  talents  or 
wealth.  Were,  however,  the  proverb,  that  "  temper  is  every 
thing,"  to  come  into  general  use,  it  could  not  create  all  the 
good  temper  which  domestic  happiness  requires.  It  would, 
of  course,  be  very  useful,  as  a  check  upon  passion  and  peev- 
ishness ;  but  there  is  no  charm  in  it,  to  sanctify  or  soften 
the  heart.  It  is  a  good  law  in  itself,  but  it  brings  with  it 
no  new  power  of  obedience.  This,  however,  all  the  Chris- 
tian laws  of  domestic  life  do  bring  with  them.  They  in- 
spire to  the  duties  they  prescribe. 

This  is  a  peculiarity  of  Christianity  which  is  not  suffi- 
ciently appreciated  or  noticed.  There  is  a  delicacy,  a  ten- 
derness, "  a  small,  still  voice,"  in  the  family  code  of  the 
New  Testament,  which  is  heart-touching  ;  and  thus  trans- 

voL.  I.— 28 


326  ETERNITY    REALIZED 

forming  in  its  sweet  influence.  Look  and  listen  again  to 
that  great  commandment,  upon  which  all  "  the  law  of  the 
house"  hangs;  "  Dwell,  as  being  heirs  together  of  the 
grace  of  life."  This  appeal  is  irresistible,  when  fairly 
weighed.  There  is  a  point,  a  charm,  an  indescribable 
something,  about  the  letter  and  spirit  of  it,  which  tells  more 
than  ten  thousand  prudential  or  authoritative  maxims  could. 
The  moment  it  is  proposed  as  a  rule  to  joint  heirs  of  salva- 
tion, it  is  approved  by  them  ;  and,  as  soon  as  it  is  consider- 
ed, it  appears,  like  a  summer  rainbow,  a  bow  of  peace,  en- 
circling and  enshrining  the  whole  round  of  domestic  duties. 

Illustration  is,  however,  more  wanted  than  eulogium,  on 
this  subject.  Now,  it  deserves  our  special  notice,  that  God, 
in  giving  laws  to  believing  partners,  never  urges  mutual  love 
or  peace  by  the  prospect  of  death.  We  are,  indeed,  "heirs 
together  "  of  the  sentence  of  death ;  and  there  is  much  in 
our  mutual  mortality  to  commend  and  enforce  mutual  kind- 
ness. We  cannot  live  together  long.  The  term  of  our 
union  may  be  very  short.  And,  as  unkindness  and  neglect 
are  fearfully  avenged,  by  the  upbraidings  of  conscience,when 
death  does  come,  we  do  well  to  prepare  a  good  conscience 
for  the  solemn  occasion.  Death  is  not  allowed,  however, 
to  appear  at  all  in  the  appeal  which  God  makes  to  our 
hearts  on  behalf  of  the  domestic  virtues.  The  whole  mo- 
tive is  drawn  from  eternal  life  ;  and  is  so  "  full  of  glory," 
that  it  fills  up  "the  valley  of  the  shadow  of  death"  with 
brightness.  We  must,  indeed,  die,  in  order  to  inherit  the 
kingdom  of  God  ;  but,  still,  it  is  the  kingdom  of  God,  and 
not  the  kingdom  of  death,  which  is  placed  and  kept  before 
our  minds. 

This  is  notby  accident, nor  without  design.  The  Searcher 
of  hearts,  who  knoweth  our  frame,  knows  that  we,  of  all 
persons,  are  most  averse  to  contemplate  death  ;  and,  there- 
fore, in  order  that  we  may  have  no  excuse  for  not  thinking 
of  heaven.  He  founds  his  appeals  to  us,  not  on  our  mortali- 
ity,  but  entirely  on  our  immortality  ;  that,  thus,  death  might 
be  "  swallowed  up  in  victory."     This  is  as  wise  as  it  is 


AT    HOME.  327 

kind.  It  is  the  only  way  to  conquer  parental  fears  of  death. 
Moral  maxims,  however  just — and  direct  warnings,  however 
solemn — could  not  win  us  to  the  habitual  considerations  of 
our  latter  end,  whilst  our  children  are  young.  The  degree 
of  warning,  that  would  compel  us  to  number  our  days,  would 
soon  shoften  our  days,  or  unfit  us  for  our  duties  ;  and  thus 
defeat  its  own  purpose.  It  is  not,  therefore,  by  warnings, 
nor  by  plying  us  with  motives,  derived  from  the  shortness  of 
life,  or  the  solemnity  of  death,  that  God  enforces  our  con- 
jugal and  parental  duties.  We  are  not  brought  "  unto  the 
mount  that  burned  with  fire ;  nor  unto  blackness  and  dark- 
ness and  tempest ;  nor  unto  the  sound  of  a  trumpet,"  to 
hear  the  law  of  our  mortality,  or  the  law  of  our  relationship ; 
but  we  are  brought  to  hear  both  sounding  from  "  Mount 
Sion,"  the  city  of  the  living  God,  the  heavenly  Jerusalem ; 
where  "an  innumerable  company  of  angels"  await  our 
coming  ;  and  Jesus,  the  Mediator  of  the  new  covenant, 
preserves  our  prepared  place  for  us.  Truly  our  law, 
Christian  parents  !  is  "  ordained  by  angels  in  the  hand  of  a 
Mediator." 

Were  these  facts  as  familiar  to  us  as  they  are  scriptural, 
we  could  not  be  so  much  in  bondage  to  the  fear  of  death, 
nor  so  silent  about  our  hope  of  heaven  But  they  are  not 
familiar  :  and  the  consequence  is,  there  is  little  or  no  sweet 
counsel  between  husbands  and  wives  on  the  subject.  In 
general,  heaven  is  almost  as  seldom  realized  or  referred  to 
as  death.  So  unusual  is  any  conversation  on  the  point,  that 
even  a  question  about  heaven,  unless  a  curious  one,  would 
be  reckoned  an  omen  or  foreboding  of  death,  rather  than  a 
symptom  of  heavenly-mindedness.  There  are  very  few 
husbands  or  wives,  who  would  not  be  more  startled  than 
gratified,  by  an  attempt,  on  either  side,  to  draw  on  a  serious 
conversation  about  their  mutual  prospects  for  eternity.  Even 
the  discovery,  or  the  suspicion,  that  the  thoughts  of  either 
party  were  dwelling  much  upon  heaven,  would  be  interpret- 
ed into  a  sign  that  that  party  was  "  not  long  for  this  world." 
Thus  the  manifestation  of  heavenly-mindedness  is  rather 


328  ETERNITY    REALIZED 

dreaded  than  desired,  even  by  pious  partners  ;  because  they 
have  fallen  into  the  habit  of  regarding  it  as  the  forerunner 
of  death. 

And,  is  it  not  so  ?  Is  it  not  become  almost  proverbial 
to  say,  of  those  who  begin  to  dwell  much  on  heavenly 
things,  " that  they  are  too  ripe  for  glory  to  he  long  here" 
And  do  not  observation  and  experience,  thus,  give  some 
countenance  to  the  suspicion  ?  I  answer,  at  once, — none  at 
all.  The  facts  on  which  such  questions  are  founded,  are 
gathered  from  wrong  quarters.  They  occur  amongst  aged, 
or  very  delicate  Christians,  whose  many  infirmities  cannot 
be  well  sustained  without  much  of  the  hope  of  eternal  life ; 
and,  therefore,  such  facts  prove  nothing  that  is  really  ap- 
plicable to  the  great  majority  of  married  believers.  Where- 
ever  heavenly-mindedness  seems  an  omen  of  approaching 
death,  there  are  other  omens  indicating  and  hastening  that 
approach.  It  is,  therefore,  not  fair,  to  attribute  an  ominous 
character  or  aspect  to  the  habit  of  looking  to  the  things 
which  are  "  unseen  and  eternal."  Paul's  confidence  of  life 
was  strongest,  at  the  very  time  when  his  heavenly-minded- 
ness was  the  greatest.  "  I  have  a  desire  to  depart,  and  to 
be  with  Christ ;  which  is  far  better.  Nevertheless,  to  abide 
in  the  flesh  is  more  needful  for  you.  And,  having  this 
confidence,  I  know  that  I  shall  abide  and  continue  with 
you  all,  for  your  furtherance  and  joy  of  faith."  Phil.  i.  23. 
This  case,  although  apostolic,  is  not  unapplicable  to  Chris- 
tian parents.  Whilst  God  sees  it  to  be  really  "  more  need- 
ful," for  the  sake  of  our  children,  that  we  should  "  abide" 
with  them,  the  cultivation  of  a  "  desire  to  depart  and  to  be 
with  Christ,"  will  no  more  hasten  our  departure  than  it  did 
Paul's  ;  but  will,  in  fact,  best  qualify  us  for  the  "  further- 
ance" of  our  children,  in  whatever  is  good  for  thom.  Be- 
sides, the  natural  tendency  of  that  heavenly-mindedness 
which  God  inculcates,  is,  to  promote  health,  and  to  prolong 
life.  A  hope  full  of  immortality,  is  full  of  tranquillity  and 
cheerfulness  ;  and  thus  favourable  to  the  body  as  well  as  to 
the  mind.     ''  What  man  is  he  that  desireth  life,  and  loveth 


AT    HOME.  329 

many  days,  that  he  may  see  good  ?"  Every  pious  husband. 
Then,  "  ye  husbands,  dwell  with  your  wives,  according  to 
knowledge,  giving  honour  unto  the  wife,  as  unto  the  weak- 
er vessel,  and  as  being  heirs  together  of  the  grace  of  life. 
Likewise,  ye  wives,  be  in  subjection  to  your  own  husbands  ; 
and  let  your  adorning  be,  the  hidden  man  of  the  heart,  in 
the  incorruptibility  of  a  meek  and  quiet  spirit, — which  is, 
in  the  sight  of  God,  of  great  price."  Ye  are  both  to  be 
*'  equal  unto  the  angels"  in  heaven ;  be  not,  therefore,  uri' 
like  them,  whilst  you  remain  on  earth. 

"  This  view  of  the  matter,"  it  may  be  said,  "  is  certainly 
very  pleasing  ;  but,  as  the  hope  of  eternal  life  is  not  com- 
mon nor  constant,  even  amongst  truly  pious  partners,  how 
can  it  become  a  general  principle  of  feeling  or  conduct  ?" 
Now,  I  readily  grant,  that  if  it  were  brought  forward  to  set 
aside  the  use  of  other  revealed  principles  or  rules  of  do- 
mestic life,  this  would  be  a  formidable  objection.  It  is,  how- 
ever, advanced  here,  as  it  is  in  the  Word  of  God,  not  to 
supersede  any  divine  law,  or  natural  affection,  but  to  hallow 
all  the  former,  and  to  sanctify  all  the  latter.  And,  surely, 
if  neither  the  frequent  weakness,  nor  yet  the  occasional 
absence  of  the  hope  of  eternal  life,  is  found  to  set  aside  the 
use  of  our  ordinary  motives,  the  predominance  of  that  hope 
is  not  likely  to  do  so.  If  many  good  principles  remain 
firm  without  much  of  it,  more  of  it,  is  not  calculated  to  re- 
lax them. 

It  is,  however,  very  much  doubted,  whether  such  an  ha- 
bitual hope  of  heaven,  as  would  habitually  influence  do- 
mestic life,  be  attainable  by  the  generality  of  godly  parents 
and  partners.  Many  of  both  are  quite  of  opinion  that, 
whilst  they  have  so  little  leisure,  and  so  much  care,  they 
cannot  reach  the  privilege  of  reading  their 


♦'  Title  clear, 
To  mansions  in  the  skies." 


And  in  this  way  we  all  reason,  more  or  less.     Indeed, 

28* 


330  ETERNITY    REALIZED 

it  is  with  considerable  difficulty  that  any  one  learns  to  sus- 
pect, even  in  secret,  the  hoUowness  of  such  reasoning ;  it 
is  so  plausible  in  appearance.  Nothing  seems  more  na- 
tural, or  likely  to  be  true,  than  that  much  time  and  little 
worldly  care  must  be  necessary,  in  order  to  acquire  a  bright 
and  abiding  hope  of  heaven.  Nothing,  however,  is  more 
untrue  than  this  natural  supposition.  All  the  oracles  of 
God  contradict  it ;  and  no  wonder !  Ours  is  not  a  world 
in  which  much  leisure  time  can  be  commanded ;  nor  in 
which  cares  can  be  avoided ;  and,  therefore,  the  gospel 
would  ill  accredit  its  own  name  or  pretensions,  if  the  hope 
of  eternal  life,  which  is  its  first  promise,  as  well  as  its  final 
reward,  could  not  be  enjoyed  by  those  believers  who  have 
much  to  do  and  endure.  The  gospel  is,  therefore,  misun- 
derstood, so  far,  by  all  who  imagine  that  their  public  duties, 
or  their  domestic  cares,  place  them  afar  off  from  a  lively 
hope  of  glory.  It  is  just  because  we  have  so  much  to  do 
and  to  suffer,  as  well  as  because  it  cannot  be  merited,  that 
eternal  life  is  the  free  gift,  and  the  faithful  promise  of  God, 
to  believers  ;  so  that  what  we  put  forward  as  our  reason 
for  not  venturing  to  cherish  the  hope  of  heaven,  is  actually 
one  of  God's  reasons  for  making  it  as  free  as  it  is  fair. 
Unless,  therefore,  a  believing  husband  is  doing  something 
in  his  business,  that  is  wrong ;  or  his  believing  w^fe  doing 
something  in  her  family,  that  is  imprudent;  why  should 
they  not  abound  in  hope  ?  Their  duties  warrant,  not  forbid 
it.  Their  ultimate  design  in  doing  so  much  for  their 
children  is,  that  they  too  may  choose  the  way  to  heaven  : 
and,  therefore,  it  would  be  strange,  indeed,  if  such  parental 
efforts  were  hinderances  to  parental  anticipations  of  heav- 
en. Those  who  regard  family  duties  in  this  strange  light, 
must  have  very  unscriptural  notions  of  both  godliness  and 
glory.  There  is,  however,  quite  as  much  of  that  holiness, 
which  constitutes  mectness  "  for  the  inheritance  of  the 
saints,"  in  providing  for  and  bringing  up  a  family  in  the 
fear  of  God,  as  in  any  other  virtue  of  Christian  character. 
All  these  distinctions  and  explanations  will  not,  how- 


AT   HOME.  331 

ever,  remove  the  difficulty  we  naturally  feel,  unless  we  un- 
derstand the  gospel  itself  well.  The  pious  husband  or  wife, 
who  does  not  believe  that  "  he  that  believeth  in  Christ  hath 
eternal  life,"  will  not  be  able  to  keep  up  the  hope  of  heaven. 
It  will  be  thrown  doAvn  or  dimmed  by  every  accident,  and 
by  all  the  fluctuations  of  their  spirits  and  feelings.  Indeed, 
it  will  fall  down  of  itself,  until  it  take  its  final  stand  on  the 
promise  of  God  through  Jesus  Christ.  Now,  he  has  promised 
eternal  life  unto  them  who  rely  on  the  cross  for  a  holy  sal- 
vation ;  and,  'herefore,  it  is  just  as  much  our  duty  to  take 
the  full  com/ort  of  the  promise,  as  it  is  to  give  the  cross  our 
full  confidq'ace.  Not  even  the  plagues  of  our  hearts,  which 
we  so  oftj^n  feel,  and  so  deeply  lament,  must  be  allowed  to 
prevent  t^iis  duty  of  hoping  unto  the  end.  Giving  up  hope 
is,  in  f/ict,  giving  them  head.  If  Satan  succeed  in  his 
efforts  t/3  make  us  afraid  of  cherishing  a  good  hope  through 
grace, /vve  shall  soon  settle  into  a  worse  frame  than  any  we 
now  aeplore.  The  more,  therefore,  that  we  feel  and  fear 
the  ^'lagues  of  our  hearts,  the  more  reason  we  have  to  cling 
both  to  the  cross  and  the  crown  ;  for  all  that  is  bad  will 
on/y  become  worse,  if  we  lose  or  lessen  our  hold  upon  either, 
/if  these  hints  throw  any  light  on  the  general  subject  of 
/fhis  Essay,  they  now  warrant  the  question — why  should 
not  mutual  heirs  of  the  grace  of  life  speak  freely  and  fre- 
quently to  each  other  of  their  eternal  prospects  ?  These 
prospects  are  not  gloomy  in  their  aspect,  nor  precarious 
in  their  tenure.     It  is  true, 

"  Death  like  a  narrow  sea  divides 
That  heavenly  land  from  ours  ;" 

but  that  sea  is  both  bridged  and  brilliant  to  us,  with  the 
great  and  precious  promises.  Or,  if  we  cannot  yet  realize 
it  in  this  light,  silence  is  not  the  best  way  to  surmount  our 
fears  of  death.  These,  like  other  fears,  strengthen  by  con- 
cealment and  lessen  by  disclosure.  Why  not,  then,  discuss 
them  as  well  as  we  do  others  !  "Why  so  much  reserve,  and 
shame,  and  timidity,  on  the  subject  of  our  mutual  immor- 


332  ETERNITY   REALIZED 

tality  ?  We  are  not  indifferent  to  each  other's  final  safety. 
Neither  of  us  could  bear  the  idea  of  parting  in  silence. 
Whichever  may  be  the  survivor,  the  utterance  of  a  good 
hope  will  be  anxiously  looked  for  then.  Consider  this  :  we 
may  be  unable  to  utter  the  wished  for  "  All  is  well,"  on  our 
death-bed.  And,  therefore,  if  we  prolong  our  present  si- 
lence, we  are  risking  each  other's  comfort  at  a  moment^ 
when  there  is  no  such  balm  to  the  widowed  and  the  wounded 
heart,  as  is  the  dying  assurance  of  peace.  O  !  let  not  the 
flow  of  that  healing  balm  depend  upon  the  vicissitudes  of 
mortal  pain  !  Let  it  drop  in  the  garden  of  home  now,  and 
be  treasured  up  "  against  that  day." 

Still,  we  shrink  from  speaking  "  as  being  heirs  together 
of  the  grace  of  life."  Why  is  this  ?  Are  we  not  joint  heirs 
of  salvation  1  Do  we  "  stand  in  doubt"  of  each  other  ?  If 
not,  what  are  we  afraid  of?  Say  not,  "  who  must  begin 
this  unusual  kind  of  communion  ?"  Any  formal  eftbrt  to 
introduce  it  would  prevent  it.  It  must  not  be  attempted  as 
a  task.  Whoever  is  the  first  to  break  the  ice  on  this  sub- 
ject, must  not  seem  to  be  conscious  that  there  is  any  ice  to 
break.  Family  prayer  is  the  best  medium  for  introducing 
family  hopes.  The  regular  introduction,  and  the  gradual 
amplification,  of  the  apostolic  thanksgiving,  1  Pet.  i.  3,  in 
prayer,  would  pave  the  way  for  conversation.  For,  what 
we  often  and  openly  united  to  say  unto  God,  we  should  soon 
be  able  to  say  unto  each  other. 

These  remarks  proceed  on  the  assumption,  that  God  is 
favourable  to  the  domestic  happiness  of  them  who  fear  him, 
and  solicitous  to  promote  it.  And  this  is  the  revealed  fact. 
He  looks  with  no  unfriendly  or  jealous  eye  upon  a  happy 
home  ;  nor  considers  lime  mispent,  or  rolitrion  misapplied, 
in  multiplying  in-door  comforts.  The  fiimily  l)liss  which  he 
breaks  up  so  often  by  the  strokes  of  his  providence,  and  of 
which  we  are  in  the  habit  of  saying,  "  it  is  too  good  to  last 
long,"  is  not  the  happiness  now  referred  to.  It  is  of  life, 
health,  and  temporal  prosperity,  we  speak  thus  ;  and  these 
are  precarious  in  every  family,  however  the  heads  of  it  may 


AT   HOME.  333 

feel  or  act  together.  No  maxim,  however  good  or  well 
applied,  can  secure  exemption  from  all  domestic  calamity. 
But  the  happiness  which  depends  on  mutual  love,  mutual 
tenderness,  and  mutual  confidence,  may  be  secured  by  living 
together  as  joint  heirs  of  eternal  life. 

Now,  there  must  be  some  favourable  light  in  which  pious 
husbands  and  wives  view  each  other ;  and  some  leading 
reason  to  influence  their  mutual  conduct;  and,  therefore, 
the  most  endearing  light,  and  the  strongest  reason,  should 
be  frequently,  indeed  habitually,  before  their  minds.  And, 
what  so  endearing  and  dignifying  as  being  called  fellow- 
heirs  of  salvation?  It  is  not  underrating  any  personal  or 
relative  charm,  on  either  side,  to  affirm,  that  "a  good  hope 
through  grace"  eclipses  them  all ;  and  is  the  best,  indeed 
the  only,  permanent  security,  of  all  that  is  moral  or  amiable 
in  the  character.  It  ought,  therefore,  to  be  often  referred 
to,  and  always  acted  upon,  as  the  chief  endearment  of  do- 
mestic life.  But,  is  there  not  reason  to  fear,  that  it  is  too 
seldom  and  slightly  noticed,  even  by  pious  partners  ?  It  is 
not  intended  to  insinuate,  by  this  question,  that  they  are 
insensible  to  the  value  or  the  charm  of  each  other's  piety. 
No  ;  they  never  think  of  it  without  pleasure  and  gratitude. 
But  it  may  be  questioned,  whether  we  think  of  it  so  often 
as  it  deserves  and  demands.  For,  what  is  the  fact,  when 
husband  and  wife  are  possessors  of  "  like  precious  faith  ?" 
They  are  warranted  to  reflect  thus  :  "  The  object  of  my 
choice  is  chosen  of  God ;  is  one  for  whom  the  Lamb  died, 
and  ever  lives  to  intercede  ;  one  enlightened  and  renewed 
by  the  Holy  Spirit :  one  to  whom  angels  minister  on  earth, 
and  for  whom  a  crown  of  glory  is  laid  up  in  heaven !"  This 
is  nothing  more  than  the  fact,  translated  into  language  ;  but, 
what  a  different  efTect  this  view  of  it  has  upon  the  heart, 
compared  with  the  common-place  emotion  excited  by  the 
reflection — he  is  d, good  man — she  is  a  good  woman  ?  Even 
the  more  spirited  reflection,  "  he  or  she  is  a  Christian,  if 
ever  there  was  one,"  is  not  so  inspiring  as  viewing  each 
Other  as  heirs  together  of  the  grace  of  life.     The  consid- 


334  ETERNITY    REALIZED 

eration,  in  this  sublime  form,  carries  away  the  mind  at  once 
to  the  grace  of  the  Father  in  adopting ;  to  the  love  of  the 
Son  in  redeeming  ;  to  the  power  of  the  Spirit  in  converting 
the  persons  ;  and  thus  raises  them,  in  each  other's  estima- 
tion, to  a  rank  and  importance  equally  high  and  holy !  And 
while  they  realize  each  other's  state  before  God,  in  this 
glorious  light,  what  will  they  not  do  and  suffer  for  each 
other?  The  bright  consciousness  of  being  "  one  in  Christ 
Jesus,"  would  not  dim  its  lustre  by  an  unkind  word  or  look. 
Caprice,  peevishness,  and  all  the  natural  ebullitions  of 
temper,  if  they  should  at  times  rush  to  the  lips,  would  rush 
back,  ashamed  of  themselves,  as  unseemly,  and  inconsistent 
with  the  mutual  hope  of  eternal  life. 

Now,  if  the  ordinary  ties  and  attractions  and  endear- 
ments of  domestic  life,  often  fail  to  maintain  uniform  kind- 
ness and  harmony — if  even  vague  and  occasional  views  of 
each  other,  as  Christians,  fail  to  carry  husband  and  wife 
calmly  through  the  duties  and  trials  of  home  ;  and  if  the 
higher  view  would  evidently  have  a  happier  influence,  both 
duty  and  interest  call  for  an  immediate  attention  to  the 
apostolic  maxim — "  Dwell,  as  being  heirs  together  of  the 
grace  of  life." 

The  maxim  is  equally  important  on  other  accounts.  It 
is  the  only  principle  on  which  husband  and  wife  can  im- 
bibe, or  maintain  the  spirit  of  Christian  fellowship.  Now 
a  free  interchange  of  spiritual  Joys  and  sorrows  is  a  rare 
thing  in  domestic  life.  There  is  often  far  more  reserve, 
silence,  and  timidity,  between  man  and  wife,  on  this  sub- 
ject, than  between  each  of  them  and  their  pious  friends. 
Ministers  often  know  more  of  the  mind  of  both,  than  they 
know  of  each  other's  experience.  And  this  happens  where 
there  is  no  want  of  mutual  confidence  ;  even  where  the 
parties  think  highly  of  each  other's  piety.  But,  having 
never  ventured  to  unbosom  themselves  freely  upon  this  one 
point,  the  state  of  their  souls  before  God  becomes  almost 
an  inviolate  secret  at  home.  They  thus  suffer  and  enjoy  in 
silence  ;  although  they  have  no  particular  reason  for  being 


AT   HOME.  335 

silent,  except  that  they  cannot  break  through  the  habit  of  re- 
serve. This  is  one  of  the  bad  effects  of  overlooking  the  apos- 
tolic maxim  at  the  outset  of  domestic  life  :  communion  of 
spirit  is  prevented  by  the  neglect.  There  may  be  fellowship 
of  opinion — fellowship  of  taste,  maintained  by  an  inter- 
change of  sentiment  about  books  and  sermons  and  ministers  : 
but  nothing  will  secure  fellowship  of  spirit,  between  man 
and  wife,  but  the  habit  of  realizing  and  treating  each  other 
asjoint  heirs  with  Christ.  Andwere  they,  on  this  principle,  to 
speak  freely  to  each  other,  both  when  all  is  well,  and  when 
all  is  wrong  within,  and  to  consult  and  console  as  fellow- 
heirs  of  salvation,  the  mutual  benefit  would  be  incalculable. 
Accordingly,  the  occasional  instances,  when  reserve  has 
been  thrown  off,  or  forced  off,  during  the  prospect  of  death, 
or  the  pressure  of  calamity,  can  never  be  forgotten  by  either 
party.  The  bright  glimpses  which  they  then  gave  each 
other  of  their  hopes,  are  fixed  stars  in  their  memory.  The 
secret,  although  only  whispered,  remains  an  everlasting 
music  in  each  mind.  Now,  why  is  it  not  fully  disclosed, 
and  habitually  reciprocated,  that  their  "joy  might  be  full .?" 
The  bearings  of  this  maxim  upon  the  character  and  suc- 
cess of  parental  instruction,  deserves  special  notice.  For, 
how  can  religion  be  endeared  to  children  by  formal  lessons, 
if  there  be  no  familiarity  between  parents  in  speaking  of 
its  hopes  and  comforts  as  their  own  ?  What  charm  or  ex- 
^[^.^cellence  ^an  it  obtain  youthful  credit  for,  if  parents  say 
nothing  of  the  positive  benefit  which  they  themselves  de- 
rive from  it  ?  Our  children  hear  us  speak  freely  and  fre- 
quently of  whatever  else  interests  us  deeply ;  and  we  feel 
it  to  be  a  sacred  duty  to  prove  to  them,  from  the  case  of 
others,  the  value  and  necessity  of  piety  :  but,  why  not  prove 
this  to  them  from  our  own  case  and  experience  ?  This  ap- 
peal would  be  more  powerful.  For,  parents  living  and  con- 
versing together  as  joint  heirs  of  eternal  life,  would  thus 
give  an  effect  to  domestic  instruction,  which,  as  it  could 
only  be  exceeded  by  the  work  of  the  Eternal  Spirit,  would 
be  likely  to  secure  his  blessing. 


336  CHRIST,     THE 

Domestic  afflictions  likewise  call  for  the  use  of  this 
maxim.  We  are  all  liable  lo  interruptions  of  health ;  and 
when  they  are  long,  fatiguing,  and  expensive,  ordinary  mo- 
tives will  not  maintain  that  uniform  patience,  tenderness, 
and  attentions,  which  are  so  requisite.  But  he,  or  she,  who 
ministers  to  an  heir,  a  joint  heir  of  glory,  will  not  weary  in 
well-doing.  That  is  a  charm  which,  by  not  decaying  it- 
self, preserves  from  decay  all  the  kindly  feelings  of  nature 
and  grace ;  and  makes  the  watcher  in  the  solitary  sick 
chamber  feel  akin  to  the  angels  of  God  ;  "  for,  are  they  not 
all  ministering  spirits  to  the  heirs  of  salvation  ?"  The  task 
of  long  watching  and  much  serving  may  seem  intolerable 
to  others,  who  think  of  the  object  less  as  an  heir  of  glory 
than  as  a  burden ;  but,  in  the  former  light,  it  is  watching 
ihe  polishing  of  a  "  living  stone,"  destined  for  a  high  place 
in  the  temple  of  God  ;  watching  the  culminating  of  a  star 
which  is  to  differ  from  other  stars  in  glory ;  watching  the 
refining  of  gold  that  is  to  form  part  of  the  mediatorial 
crown. 


No.  X. 

CHRIST,     THE     GLORY     OF     ETERNITY. 

Were  there  nothing  else  to  prove  the  Divinity  of  the 
Saviour,  but  the  degree  in  which  the  happiness  of  heaven 
is  represented,  as  flowing  from  his  presence  and  glory — 
that  one  fact  is  fatal  to  Socinianism,  and  to  every  system 
which  makes  the  Son  inferior  to  the  Father.  It  is  espe- 
cially fatal  to  the  theory  of  the  mere  humanity  of  the  Sav- 
iour ;  for  a  mere  man,  however  highly  endowed  or  well 
di.sposed,  could  not  render  himself  the  companion,  even, 
of  the  countless  myriads  who  shall  inherit  heaven ;  much 


GLORY    OF    ETERNITY  337 

less  could  he  be  to  each  and  to  all  the  heirs  of  glory  the 
eternal  source  and  centre  of  their  happiness.  Such,  how- 
ever, the  Lamb,  in  common  "  with  God,"  is  expressly  and 
uniformly  declared  to  be.  To  the  Son,  as  much  as  to  the 
Father,  is  ascribed  the  eternal  absence  of  all  pain  in  heav- 
en. "  They  shall  hunger  no  more,  neither  thirst  any  more  ; 
neither  shall  the  sun  light  on  them,  nor  any  heat :  For  the 
Lamb  which  is  in  the  midst  of  the  throne  shall  feed  them, 
and  shall  lead  them  to  living  fountains  of  waters  ;  and  God 
shall  wipe  away  all  tears  from  their  eyes."  The  absence 
of  all  darkness,  mental  and  moral,  is  traced  to  the  same 
source.  "  The  glory  of  God  did  lighten  it ;  and  the  Lamb 
is  the  light  thereof ;  for  there  shall  be  no  night  there." 

In  literal  accordance  with  this  view  of  heaven,  the  Sav- 
iour, in  his  great  intercessory  prayer,  addressed  the  Father 
thus, — "  I  will  that  they  also  whom  thou  hast  given  me,  be 
with  me  where  I  am,  that  they  may  behold  my  glory." 
Thus  also  he  spoke  to  his  disciples,  "  If  I  go  and  prepare 
a  place  for  you,  I  will  come  again  and  receive  you  to  my- 
self; that  where  I  am,  there  ye  maybe  also."  Thus  Paul, 
also,  summed  up  the  bliss  and  glory  which  he  anticipated 
in  heaven, — "  I  desire  to  depart,  and  to  be  with  Christ ; 
which  is  far  better."  And,  "  to  be  for  ever  with  the  Lord," 
is  the  apostolic  form  of  embracing  and  imbodying  al'  the 
exceeding  and  eternal  weight  of  glory.  Now  all  this  is 
utterly  incompatible  with  the  theory  of  a  finite  Saviour. 
The  mere  man — of  Unitarianism ;  and  the  incarnate  angel 
of  Arianism,  are  equally  unfit  to  be  Jehovah's  "  Fellow," 
in  the  mighty  work  of  filling  all  heaven  with  everlasting 
joy  and  glory.  He  who  is  "  equal  with  God,"  in  the  com- 
munication of  that  bliss,  must  be  equal  with  God  in  his  es- 
sence and  resources.  No  finite  being  could  so  universalize 
his  attentions  amongst  such  myriads,  as  to  gratify  them  all 
alike,  even  if  his  attentions  were  capable  of  perfecting 
their  enjoyment. 

Were  there,  therefore,  only  the  legitimate  inferences  de- 
ducible  from  the  single  fact,  that  God  and  the  Lamb  are 

VOL.  I.— 29 


338  CHRIST.     THE 

equally  the  revealed  source  and  centre  of  the  eternal  bliss 
of  heaven,  I,  as  a  behever  in  immortality,  should  feel  bound, 
by  reason  and  common  sense,  to  reject  both  the  Unitarian 
and  the  Arian  view  of  Christ ;  just  because  such  a  Christ 
could  not  be,  in  common  with  the  Father,  the  glory  of  such 
a  heaven.  I  might  not,  indeed,  be  able  to  infer  so  much 
from  the  fact  of  his  companionship  with  God  in  this  mat- 
ter, as  I  now  know  from  express  revelation  ;  but  I  should 
be  compelled  to  infer  from  it — or,  rather,  I  could  not  shut 
my  eyes  to  the  natural  inferences  which  emanate  from  it, 
like  light  from  the  sun, — that  Jesus  must  be  more  than  man, 
and  higher  than  angels.  In  a  word,  it  is  Trinitarianism 
only,  that  furnishes  a  satisfactory  explanation  of  the  fact 
just  stated ;  and  that  fact  is  so  interesting,  that  it  deserves 
the  chief  place  in  all  our  meditations  on  eternal  glory. 

With  what  sublime  simplicity  and  brevity  Paul  sums  up 
the  bliss  of  heaven  :  "  so  shall  we  be  for  ever  with  the 
Lord."  It  would  be  much  to  "  be  for  ever  with  "  any  one 
of  the  angels,  in  any  part  of  heaven,  however  remote  from 
the  throne  of  God  and  the  Lamb.  It  would  be  much  to 
"  be  for  ever  with"  any  one  of  the  saints,  even  if  not  within 
the  sight  or  the  sound  of  the  "  general  assembly"  before  the 
throne.  It  would  be  much  to  "be  for  ever"  alone  on  the 
most  distant  hill  of  immortality.  It  would  be  much  to  "  be 
for  ever"  any  where,  out  of  hell.  What,  then,  must  it  be, 
to  "  be  for  ever  with  the  Lord  ?" 

When  you  think  of  hell,  and  realize,  only  for  a  moment, 
the  bare  idea  of  being  "for  ever  with"  Satan  and  his  an- 
gels ;  "  for  ever  with"  all  the  impure  and  impenitent  spirits 
in  the  universe,  you  feel,  through  all  your  soul,  that  even 
eternal  solitude  in  any  other  spot  of  the  universe,  would  be 
an  unspeakable  mercy.  You  are  not  only  ready  to  say,  "  I 
had  rather  be  a  door-keeper"  of  the  house  of  God  in  heaven, 
for  ever,  "  than  dwell  in  the  tents  of  wickedness  ;"  but  you 
are  ready  to  say,  I  had  rather  spend  my  eternity  alone,  even 
on  the  very  shore  of  the  "  great  gulf"  which  divides  heaven 
and  hell,  if  I  were  allowed  to  be  on  its  heaveidy  side  ;  than 


GLORY    OF     ETERNITY.  339 

be  free  from  torment  on  its  infernal  side  ;  because,  on  the 
side  next  to  heaven,  I  should,  at  least,  escape  the  contami- 
nation of  hell.  0,  yes  ;  "  Gather  not  my  soul  with  sinners" 
for  ever,  wherever  else  it  may  be  placed.  Let  me  rather 
dwell  for  ever  on  the  most  distant  and  desolate  star  in  space ; 
or  hover  for  ever  through  the  gloom  of  starless  infinity, 
eternally  alone,  than  dwell  where  spirits  are  "  unholy  still, 
and  filthy  still." 

It  is,  then,  the  sober  fact,  that  any  place  out  of  hell,  and 
any  condition  not  unholy,  are  infinitely  preferable  to  the 
wrath  to  come.  Any  of  the  imaginary  conditions  we  have 
glanced  at,  we  would  gladly  accept,  rather  than  dwell  with 
apostate  and  despairing  spirits  ;  even  if  there  were  no 
"devouring  fire"  in  their  everlasting  prison.  O,  yes  ;  let 
the  soul  only  "  escape''''  from  that  society  and  scene  ;  and 
wherever  it  might  wing  its  way  in  the  regions  of  immensi- 
ty;  whether  on,  or  beyond,  the  utmost  limits  of  creation, 
it  would  for  ever  "  sing  of  mercy,"  and  say,  at  every  spot 
where  it  paused,  "  the  lines  are  fallen  to  me  in  pleasant 
places,  and  I  have  a  goodly  heritage,"  although  not  in 
heaven ! 

All  this  is,  happily  for  believers  !  impossible.  It  is  not, 
however,  improper,  nor  imprudent,  to  indulge  the  supposi- 
tion, for  the  purpose  of  preparing  ourselves  to  form  a  due 
estimate  of  heaven.  Now,  if  eternal  solitude  would  be 
endurable,  even  if  in  the  vacant  spaces  of  infinity,  what 
must  be  the  bliss  of  eternal  society,  around  the  throne  of 
God  and  the  Lamb  ?  If  to  be  for  ever  with  one  angel  or 
saint,  at  the  very  farthest  "  borders  of  Emmanuel's  land," 
would  be  "  worthy  of  all  acceptation,"  what  will  it  be  to  be 
for  ever  with  the  "  innumerable  company  of  angels,"  and 
with  all  "  the  spirits  of  just  men  made  perfect  ?"  If  to  be 
a  doorkeeper  of  the  heavenly  temple  would  be  joy  un- 
speakable ;  what  must  be  the  joy  of  being  "  made  kings 
and  priests  unto  God  V  And,  if  to  be  for  ever  with  any 
one  in  heaven,  would  be  certain  and  sublime  happiness; 
what  must  be  the  certainty  and  sublimity  of  being  "  for  ever 


340  CHRIST,     THE 

with  the  Lord  ?"  "  For  ever  with  the  Lord  !"  There 
is  no  idea  of  heaven  dearer  to  the  followers  of  Christ,  than 
this.  And  all  our  other  ideas  of  it,  even  the  fondest  of  them, 
culminate  and  centre  in  seeing  and  being  with  the  Saviour. 
Even  the  sweet  hope  of  reunion  with  the  spirits  we  love 
most,  is  sweetest  in  the  form  of  joining  them,  to  cast  our 
crowns  at  his  feet  together.  We  feel  that  however  high 
natural  love  may  swell  them,  the  only  effect  of  it  will  be  to 
sv/ell  higher  the  song,  "  unto  Him  that  loved  us,  and  wash- 
ed us  in  his  own  blood,  be  glory  for  ever."  Thus,  hus- 
bands and  wives,  parents  and  children,  will  especially  (eely 
when  they  meet  before  the  throne  ;  and,  just  in  proportion 
to  the  joy  of  that  meeting,  will  be  the  attention,  and  the 
gratitude,  and  the  love,  it  will  concentrate  upon  the  Lamb, 


cm 


slain  for  th 

In  like  manner,  all  the  joys  and  glories  of  heaven  will, 
and  must,  have  a  similar  influence  on  all  the  redeemed  ; 
because  the  whole  church  being  equally  indebted  to  Christ 
for  heaven,  the  more  glorious  heaven  is,  the  more  grateful 
they  must  be  to  Him.  "  Whom  have  I  in  heaven  but  thee  !" 
is  an  exclamation  which  nothing  there  will  stop  or  lessen, 
even  when  all  that  is  within  the  veil  is  as  visible  as  it  is 
eternal.  For,  as  neither  the  splendour  of  daylight,  nor  the 
softness  of  moonlight  diverts  our  thoughts  from  the  lumina- 
ries which  emit  them  ;  but  rather  fixes  our  attention  on  the 
sun  that  rules  by  day,  and  the  moon  that  rules  by  night  ; 
so  neither  the  personal  nor  the  relative  enjoyments  of  heav- 
en, however  manifold  or  entrancing,  can  have  any  other 
tendency  than  to  endear  the  Saviour.  There  is,  therefore, 
as  much  sound  logic,  as  sublime  poetry,  in  that  stanza : — 

"  Millions  of  years  my  wondering  eyes 
Shall  o'er  his  beauties  rove  ; 
And  endless  ages  I'll  adore 
The  glories  of  his  love  !" 

Communion  of  spirit,  with  the  very  '*  Morning  stars  of  the 
angelic  hierarchy,"  will  not  prevent  this  admiration  of  the 


GLORY     OF    ETERNITY.  341 

Saviour,  even  when  they  sing  together  from  all  their  orbits, 
the  wonders  of  creation  ;  and  explain  from  all  their  expe- 
rience, the  mysteries  of  Providence.  Indeed,  every  note 
of  their  "  descant  on  creation,"  will  naturally  and  must 
inevitably,  lead  our  minds  to  Christ ; — "  for  by  him  were 
all  things  created,  visible  and  invisible  ;"  so  that  the  more 
the  glories  of  the  material  universe  are  shown  or  celebrated 
in  heaven,  the  more  we  sball  turn  to  the  Son,  saying,  with 
the  Father,  "  Thou,  Lord,  in  the  beginning,  didst  lay  the 
foundations  of  the  earth  ;  and  the  heavens  are  the  works 
of  thy  hands."  And,  upon  the  same  principle,  if  angels 
rehearse  to  us  the  history  of  every  providential  event,  over 
which  they  sang  "  Hallelujah ;"  and  even  if  the  Eternal 
Spirit  should  solve  the  mystery  of  all  these  events,  as  they 
record  them,  the  vast  and  varied  theme  will  only,  can  only, 
increase  our  love  to  Him,  whose  incarnation  and  atonement 
were  prepared  for  by  the  Old  Testament  series  of  these 
events,  and  rewarded  by  the  New  Testament  series  of 
providences.  For,  however  the  philosophy  of  nature  and 
history  may  divert  the  mind  from  Christ  crucified  here,  it 
will  not  do  so  there.  Creation  and  providence,  when  seen 
in  the  light  of  eternity,  will  be  as  full  of  Christ,  and  lead 
as  directly  to  Christ,  as  the  Bible  does  now.  As  to  Him, 
"  all  the  prophets"  give  witness  here  ;  so  there,  every  star 
visible  from  the  heaven  of  heavens,  will,  like  the  star  of 
Bethlehem,  point  to  Him :  and,  as  he  is  "  all,  and  all,  and 
Head  over  all  things,"  in  revelation ;  so,  when  all  that 
infinity  embraces,  and  all  that  eternity  will  explain,  is  as 
familiar  as  the  flowers  of  the  field  now  are,  Jesus  will  still 
be  all  and  all,  and  head  over  all,  in  heaven.  "  He  must  in- 
crease" for  ever,  however  the  arcana  of  the  works  of  crea- 
tion, and  the  workings  of  providence  are  laid  open ;  and 
whatever  be  the  glory  of  the  prospects  which  shall  dawn 
on  the  Church,  when  she  is  presented  complete  and  spot- 
less to  the  Father. 

And,  if  the  universe  of  being,  in  all  its  history  and  mys- 
tery unveiled,  will  be  unable  to  divert  the  mind  from  the 
29* 


342  CHRIST,      THE 

adoration  or  the  admiration  of  the  Lamb  of  God,  it  is  need- 
less to  say,  that  no  personal,  or  family  or  social  interest, 
will  be  able  to  do  so.  Whatever  intimacies  may  be  re- 
newed or  formed  throughout  the  general  assembly ;  and 
whatever  delight  may  be  derived  from  fellowship  with 
angels  of  all  orders,  and  saints  of  all  ages ;  and  whatever 
the  degree  of  this  holy  intercourse  may  be,  the  direct  ten- 
dency of  the  whole  must  be  to  exalt  and  endear  the  Saviour; 
because  He  is  the  direct  source  of  the  felicity. 

It  is,  therefore,  worthy  of  special  attention,  at  this  point 
of  the  argument,  that  it  is  by  no  arbitrary  arrangement  that 
the  Lamb  is  the  glory  of  heaven.  He  is  not  so,  because 
he  is  appointed  to  be  so  ;  but  he  has  been  appointed  be- 
cause he  deserves  to  be  so.  The  Father  has  placed  him 
only  where  the  church  would  have  placed  him,  of  her  own 
accord,  if  left  to  her  own  choice. 

In  like  manner,  it  is  not  chiefly  because  it  is  law  or  du- 
ty, that  the  hearts  and  harps  of  all  the  redeemed  will  turn 
with  adoring  gratitude  to  the  Redeemer ;  but  because  it  is 
natural  that  they  should  thus  centre  upon  Him,  in  common 
with  the  Father  and  the  Holy  Spirit.  He*  would  be  en- 
throned with  them  in  every  heart,  even  if  he  were  not  "  in 
the  midst"  of  the  eternal  throne  with  them  already  ;  and, 
were  there  no  legislative  claim  upon  the  love  or  gratitude 
of  the  church,  she  would  continue  the  "  new  song,"  in  all 
Its  compass  and  melody,  without  weariness  for  ever. 

Such  being  the  sober  facts  of  the  case,  it  is  easy  to  see 
how  all  that  will  be  known  of  the  Father  and  the  Spirit, 
liowever  much  it  may  be,  must  have  the  efTect  of  endearing 
the  Son.  It  is  demonstral)le,  that  the  more  God  is  unveil- 
ed, the  more  the  Lamb  will  be  admired.  Indeed,  the  man- 
ifestation of  the  Father's  glory,  however  full  and  clear, 
nuist  manifest  the  glory  of  the  Son,  in  the  same  proportion  : 
for.  He  being  "  the  brightness"  of  that  glory,  the  brighter  it 
shines,  the  more  glorious  he  will  appear.  And,  in  like 
manner,  the  more  the  person  of  God  is  seen  face  to  face, 
the  more  will  the  dignity  of  the  Saviour  be  disclosed ;  be- 


GLORY     OF    ETERNITY.  343 

cause,  He  being  "  the  express  image"  of  that  person,  its 
manifestation  will  be  his  also. 

This,  although  a  delicate,  is  a  delightful  subject.  We 
expect,  or  desire,  to  see  much,  and  to  understand  more,  of 
the  divine  nature.  Our  present  ideas  of  it  are  rather  daz- 
zling, than  distinct.  We  are  even  afraid  to  imbody  our 
conceptions  of  it ;  and  shrink  from  stamping  it  with  local- 
ity or  shape.  Even  our  conception  of  it  is  rather  an  emo- 
tion, than  an  image.  No  wonder,  therefore,  if  we  antici- 
pate much  from  seeing  God  "  as  he  is  !"  But,  even  this 
great  sight  will  in  nowise  divert  or  divide  our  attention  or 
attachment  from  the  Saviour.  No ;  when  the  veil  drops, 
however  far  it  descend,  and  however  full  may  be  the  disclo- 
sure of  the  godhead,  all  the  bearings  of  this  beatific 
vision,  on  Christ,  will  be  the  demonstration  that  "  in  Him 
dwelleth  all  the  fulness  of  the  godhead  bodily."  As  he 
said  on  earth,  "  he  that  hath  seen  me  hath  seen  the  Father 
also  ;"  so,  when  the  Fatl^er  shall  show  himself  face  to  face 
in  heaven,  it  will  be  in  effect,  saying,  "  he  that  hath  seen 
me  hath  seen  the  Son  also." 

Nor  is  this  all  the  tendency  of  the  manifestation.  Every 
ray  of  its  glory,  w^hilst  it  will  unveil  the  essential  glory  of 
the  Lamb,  will  also  invest  his  cross  with  new  and  height- 
ened attractions  ;  and  thus  promote  and  prolong  for  ever 
the  celebration  of  his  atonement.  For,  the  more  that  is 
shown  of  the  majesty,  the  holiness,  the  justice,  and  the 
love  of  God,  the  more  will  and  must  the  wonders  of  the 
cross  be  admired,  and  the  manifold  wisdom  of  it  be  studied 
by  all  the  redeemed. 

This  line  of  argument  is  equally  applicable  to  the  mani- 
festation of  the  person  and  glory  of  the  Eternal  Spirit. 
Nothing  that  he  does  now  in  sanctifying  or  consoling  the 
church,  diverts  or  divides  her  attention  from  the  Saviour  ; 
but  the  whole  bearing  of  spiritual  operations  and  influences, 
is  to  "  glorify  Christ."  Now,  if  this  be  their  direct  ten- 
dency, whilst  they  are  but  partially  understood,  and  but  in- 
adequately appreciated,  it  is  self-evident  that  they  can  have 


344  CHRIST.     THE 

no  different  effect,  when  they  are  all  fully  estimated  in 
heaven.  No  ;  when  all  the  agency  of  the  Holy  Spirit, 
and  all  the  holy  results  of  it  are  familiar,  it  will  just,  like 
the  beatific  vision  of  the  Father's  person  and  glory,  en- 
shrine the  Lamb  slain  with  proportionate  effulgence. 

Thus  all  that  we  know  or  can  anticipate  of  heaven,  tends 
only  to  confirm  the  revealed  fact,  that  to  "  be  ever  with  the 
Lord,"  is  the  very  substance  of  eternal  happiness.  Being 
"  ever  with"  the  Father  and  the  Holy  Spirit,  will  just  de- 
monstrate this  fact.  For,  let  it  never  be  forgotten,  that  it 
is  the  atoning  work  of  the  Son,  which  has  brought  out,  into 
such  full  and  harmonious  display,  the  glories  of  the  divine 
nature  and  character.  Through  no  other  medium  could 
they  have  been  so  perfectly  manifested.  Whatever,  there- 
fore, be  the  degree  in  which  God  is  glorified  by  the  full 
development  of  his  perfections,  the  Lamb  furnished  both 
the  opportunity  and  the  medium  of  it ;  and,  therefore,  when 
it  is  fullest  and  fairest,  the  Lamb  must  still  be  the  mirror  in 
which  it  shines. 

Having  thus  endeavoured  to  realize  some  of  the  chief 
joys  of  being  with  the  Lord,  it  will  not  be  imprudent  nor 
unprofitable  to  glance  at  the  pleasures  which  must  spring 
from  witnessing  his  present  offices,  in  heaven.  We  now 
thir.k  of  his  intercession  with  delight.  We  shall  soon 
see  how  it  is  conducted.  And,  whatever  be  the  manner  or 
the  spirit  in  which  he  intercedes,  both  will  throw  back  our 
thoughts  upon  the  lowness  of  our  past  and  present  estimate 
of  it.  Nothing,  perhaps,  will  deepen  our  humility  in  heav- 
en, more  than  the  remembrance  of  our  reluctance  to  pray, 
when  we  see  how  the  Father  "  waiteth  to  be  gracious ;" 
and  how  the  Son  "  ever  liveth  to  intercede."  We  shall 
judge  impartially  then,  how  they  ought  to  pray,  whom  we 
have  left  on  earth  ;  and,  in  this  judging  of  their  duty,  we 
shall,  with  all  the  reason  and  conscience  of  our  perfected 
spirits,  condemn  tlic  formality  and  coldness  which  so  often 
marked  our  own  devotion.  Only  think ! — what  we  must 
feel  when  we  first  see  the  Saviour  rise  before  the  throne 


GLORY     OF    ETERNITY.  345 

to  intercede  for  those  whom  we  have  left  1  It  is  not  ne- 
cessary, in  order  to  realize  the  effect  of  this  act  on  our 
minds,  that  we  should  assist  our  thoughts  now  by  the  ma- 
terial imagery  of  a  "  golden  censer,"  or  of"  much  incense." 
No  ;  the  bare  idea,  that  he  "  appears  in  the  presence  of 
God  for"  his  people,  is  quite  sufficient  to  lift  up  our  spirits 
to  something  of  that  holy  amazement  which  they  must  feel, 
when  they  see  and  hear  how  he  pleads  for  his  church. 
Such  will  and  must  be  the  effect  of  witnessing  his  actual 
intercession,  that  no  witness  of  it  could  be  unwiUing  to 
return  to  the  earth  for  a  time,  (were  a  return  proper  in  all 
other  respects,)  just  to  pay  due  honour  to  that  intercession. 


END  OF   VOL.  I. 


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Theological  Seminary-Speer  Library 


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